In The Shadow of The Cypress

by Thomas Steinbeck

  It was Master Ah Chung who spoke first. Smiling, he asked his guest if he would like to go out and watch the fishermen work. He said it was a remarkable sight to see so many squid pulled aboard. He proudly declared that the bay was a veritable paradise of abundance. The passing seasons brought in all kinds of fish. The doctor looked down at his pressed suit and politely demurred by saying he didn’t believe he was dressed for the rigors of a fishing expedition. Master Ah Chung laughed and said that he didn’t mean they should go tonight, for he knew that Lady Yee had planned a special meal in honor of the doctor’s visit. However, the moon would be up on the following night as well, and an appropriate wardrobe would be happily supplied.

  Perhaps it was the beauty of the vision before him, but suddenly, and quite uncharacteristically, Dr. Lao-Hong laughed and found himself saying that he would very much like to go, that is, if his presence was still acceptable after the tong’s decision on the matter before them. Master Ah Chung smiled and said the tong elders would not rush to judgment. They never did. Deliberation was their pleasure and a preferred pastime, and now that they had something truly important to decide, they would jealously guard their prerogatives. He laughed and said the venerable elders would savor every morsel until only the bones remained as mute testimony to their meticulous considerations.

  Ah Chung cautioned Dr. Lao-Hong that their ultimate decision might take days. There would be plenty of time to enjoy the simple pleasures his surroundings afforded. He went on to mention that two of the most prominent elders of the tong were invited guests that evening at Lady Yee’s celebratory dinner. Ah Chung smiled and confided that, like the legendary Indian fakirs, the good doctor would have plenty of time to charm their somewhat reticent instincts out of the basket, but only as long as he did not attempt to influence any detail of their verdict. He went on to suggest that no mention of his mission be made in front of Lady Yee, as the venerable elders might feel they were being held hostage by rigid rules of hospitality in the presence of someone of Lady Yee’s eminence and stature. The doctor concurred and promised not to touch on the subject in any manner. He had no desire to compromise the tong’s position by divulging their secret possession of Zhou Man’s relics. Besides, he was quite confident she already knew everything about the situation, and probably with greater comprehension of the details.

  Lady Yee’s celebratory feast was a great success all around. The meal was a magnificent fusion of seven courses that featured the bounty of the bay and the Carmel River. The service included a delicate shark-fin soup, baby squid cooked in their own ink, pickled anchovies, grilled mackerel in a sauce of rice wine and Spanish capers, fresh trout from the Carmel River, boned and cleaned from the spine and cunningly posed with their tails protruding from their mouths, and served on a bed of crisp cabbage flavored with toasted sesame seeds. The main course consisted of two young salmon stuffed with mussels and crabmeat, then steamed whole and served on a decorative bed of rice noodles and wild chanterelle mushrooms arranged to look like stones slightly submerged in a shallow river. The whole charming presentation was set to resemble salmon struggling upstream against the current. There were any number of other gastronomic delights, but after a while the company lost count.

  Dr. Lao-Hong was good to his word, and though he was unused to such performances, he regaled the company with amusing stories about peoples and cities in the far eastern states. He charmed them with tales of his education at Harvard. He talked about the customs and foods in the east, and how at school he’d formed an unnatural attachment to something called an English breakfast, which he itemized and described in such a way as to elicit laughter, which it did. Dr. Lao-Hong noticed that Lady Yee was always the first to appreciate the humor, but she modestly muted her laughter with a napkin-draped hand. And all the while the doctor never once hinted at the purpose of his visit, and whenever his eyes met Master Ah Chung’s, he received an appreciative smile and nod. The master was pleased the venerable elders were so thoroughly entertained, and was much amused to see them laugh so freely at every humorous tale the doctor shared.

  The feast lasted until almost half past eleven, after which Master Ah Chung drove the elders home, and the doctor, after many heartfelt thanks and compliments, retired to his rooms and slept so soundly that when he awoke the following morning, it took him a few moments to remember where he was. His own household could ill afford the opulent antique furnishings with which his present quarters were so lavishly adorned, so of course his first sensation was one of surprise. It was to augur a whole series of surprises.

  His second surprise came at breakfast, when Lady Yee had her cook prepare a special and unexpected meal. After her pleasant greetings and polite inquiries about the comfort of his sleep, Dr. Lao-Hong was invited to seat himself at the table. Then he was presented with a covered silver platter. Lifting the lid, the maid revealed three large fried eggs, a generous rasher of lean bacon done to a turn, a stack of thick buttered toast, strawberry jam, and a large pot of coffee with cream and sugar. The astonishment on the doctor’s face compelled Lady Yee to cover her mouth and chuckle with delight. The doctor could find no words to make an inquiry without sounding foolish or rude.

  Lady Yee’s eyes twinkled with an amused expression as she reminded her guest that he had mentioned how much he enjoyed an English breakfast. She said that the doctor had spoken of it with such fondness that she had her cook prepare the meal just as he’d described.

  It proved to be one of the best breakfasts he had ever tasted. And the coffee, of which he consumed three cups, was delicious, sweet and strong, just the way they used to make it back at the Harvard canteen. Toward the end of his meal, while Lady Yee’s attention was diverted elsewhere with a caller, the doctor pulled a blank page from his pocket notebook and folded it into a small square envelope. On the front he wrote the characters for “respectful appreciation.” Then he pulled a five-dollar gold piece from his coin purse and placed it within the little envelope. When the maid came to take away his service, he gave her the envelope and asked her to present it to the cook with his sincere compliments. The maid smiled politely, put the paper in her sleeve pocket, and took the dishes into the kitchen.

  Lady Yee’s caller turned out to be none other than Master Ah Chung. He apologized for not sending word first, but had decided to come himself to save time. He lowered his voice and informed the doctor that the elders, as a body, had requested a further interview on the subject at hand. Master Ah Chung said that he knew the request was a little offhand, but elders were elders, and their wishes, no matter how untimely, were best addressed promptly. He gently smiled and said that after the noonday meal, and possibly a pipe of opium to assuage their aches and pains, the venerable elders of the tong had a tendency to drift off the mark, so to speak. Master Ah Chung noted that to do business properly, one had to get their attention early in the day. These old men possessed great powers of recall to be sure, but they generally lost interest in everything but their pipes, dominos, and idle conversation as the day wore on.

  Dr. Lao-Hong listened with a bemused expression, then he took one last sip of his coffee, dabbed his napkin to his lips, and declared he was prepared to wait upon the elders at once. After dispensing sincere compliments and thanks to Lady Yee for his breakfast, the doctor retrieved his hat from the hall stand and followed Master Ah Chung out to his buggy.

  The second interview, though delivered to a larger audience of aging sages, went very much like the first, with many questions presented that had already been answered the day before. Nonetheless, Dr. Lao-Hong patiently responded to everything he could, and went on to elucidate concerning matters that the elders had neglected to inquire about. He even went so far as to point out one or two weak points in the arrangement and told them how they might adjust the agreement to their advantage. For a while the doctor felt as though he was representing the tong elders rather than the Three Corporations, but he knew that at the very least he was following the tenets of honor, honesty, and fairnes
s that his father had demanded of him. Whether his uncles and the Three Corporations would agree was another matter, and one to avoid if at all possible.

  Suddenly, and just as abruptly as the meeting was called, the elders rose and pronounced the meeting adjourned. They then filed out of the hall without the slightest indication of approval or disapproval. Dr. Lao-Hong looked to Master Ah Chung with a perplexed expression and shrugged his shoulders. Master Ah Chung smiled and nodded. He said that the elders were functioning true to form. They hadn’t quite finished feasting on the shank of their deliberations. The importance of the occasion, and the ramifications for the future of their community, justly demanded that they dissect every fiber of the argument. They were well aware that their civic reputations might suffer the possible charge of laxity or malfeasance. Whether they would ultimately agree to the arrangement was still very much a matter for speculation. Not even Master Ah Chung could dare predict what their eventual decision might be, but he did observe that they would take their time; their prerogatives were considered above criticism or comment.

  When they exited the tong hall, Dr. Lao-Hong asked his host if it would be possible to find and visit the residence of Dr. Charles Gilbert, a professor at Hopkins Marine Laboratory. Master Ah Chung said he could find it, but it might be best if they just took the buggy out to Hopkins Laboratory and asked. Dr. Lao-Hong agreed, and off they went.

  A half hour later they arrived at Hopkins, where Dr. Lao-Hong introduced himself to Professor Ray L. Wilbur. Saying that he was an acquaintance of Dr. Gilbert, he asked if it might be possible to arrange for an appointment with the professor. Dr. Wilbur, who was obviously surprised that this well-dressed Chinese gentleman spoke perfect English, said that Professor Gilbert had recently departed on a research sabbatical to San Diego. He would be gone for three months, studying southern marine migration patterns. However, if Dr. Lao-Hong wished to leave a letter, Professor Wilbur would see that it was sent on to Dr. Gilbert in the next packet of mail forwarded to him.

  Dr. Lao-Hong said that his business could wait until Dr. Gilbert returned. All the same, he left his English business card as a matter of courtesy and thanked Dr. Wilbur for his kindness. The doctor and Master Ah Chung drove away, leaving Dr. Wilbur looking at the business card and scratching his nose in bewilderment.

  After their interview, the doctor and Master Ah Chung went in search of the professor’s cottage, where they verified with Dr. Gilbert’s housekeeper that he was indeed in San Diego and would be there for some time.

  Dr. Lao-Hong’s relief was palpable. He now knew that even if some word of Zhou Man’s treasure should leak out before the transfer to San Francisco was accomplished, Dr. Gilbert would not be present to confirm that such articles existed.

  Master Ah Chung then returned his guest to Lady Yee’s house, and as he took his leave, he handed Dr. Lao-Hong a round paper parcel tied with string. When the doctor asked what it was, Master Ah Chung smiled and answered that they were new seaman’s togs and deck sandals made of waxed linen. He said he would return at six o’clock to escort the doctor out on the bay to watch the squid fleet at work, as promised.

  The doctor had all but forgotten that he’d said he wished to go out on the bay to watch the squid fishermen by moonlight, but since Master Ah Chung had gone to so much trouble to outfit him properly, he could not find it in his heart to refuse the invitation. On the other hand, the doctor confided to Master Ah Chung that he would prefer to change his clothes somewhere else, preferably in the village, as he didn’t think that Lady Yee would appreciate one of her honored guests being seen exiting her premises in such attire.

  Master Ah Chung laughed out loud for the first time, and then begged pardon for the outburst. He reminded the doctor that Lady Yee’s late husband was a famous ship captain. Originally employed in the lucrative China trade, in later life Captain Hammond was known locally as a very strict whale warden, and a veritable terror to all poachers. In consequence, Lady Yee had always expressed great warmth of feeling for courageous seafaring men. Master Ah Chung then revealed that it was Lady Yee who had commissioned and paid for the expensive reliquaries that now housed and guarded Zhou Man’s valuable testaments.

  Suddenly, the doctor awoke to the fact that Lady Yee knew exactly what business he was set upon. And with a smile of bemused acknowledgment, he assumed at once that there were no secrets anywhere within all of Monterey that she was not privy to. He at once determined to take advantage of her judicious insights and prudence when the opportunity presented itself.

  Lady Yee saw to it that there were no witnesses abroad when Dr. Lao-Hong descended from his room and exited the house dressed in the garments of a local fisherman. Master Ah Chung was awaiting him in the buggy, and they moved off to the fishing village of Point Alones just as the moon goddess began arcing over the bay. The silver web had just begun to spread once more, and the baby spiders were moving out onto the blinking silver laces of moonlight.

  Master Ah Chung led Dr. Lao-Hong down to the shore, where there awaited a large sampan, half launched onto the shallow surf. The broad transom deck was crewed by two fishermen with long sculls. The sturdy little vessel had been furnished with accoutrements heretofore unseen on Chinese fishing boats on Monterey Bay. There were cushions for the doctor’s place, with a small carpet laid at his feet. And in the bows, looking toward the stern, sat an old man with a shaved head who looked for all the world like a maritime Buddha. He sat facing the stern and appeared to be fanning the coals of a small, barrel-shaped clay oven set in a sandbox. The clay oven was designed to either tightly cradle a wok or support a grill. Dr. Lao-Hong had grown up seeing the same ovens on street vendors’ carts in San Francisco’s Chinatown. They offered everything from grilled baby octopus to stir-fried noodles dressed in every conceivable condiment.

  The young fishermen sculling the sampan were obviously proud of their strength and skill; otherwise they would not have been chosen to master the vessel. As a mark of respect for their esteemed passenger, they wore brightly embroidered skullcaps and decorated vests to offset their plain fisherman’s garb. Their long braided queues were handsomely dressed and oiled so that they reflected the moonlight. Dr. Lao-Hong felt a pang of pride for his sturdy countrymen as they deftly sculled the sampan out into the middle of the drifting fleet of waiting boats.

  As if they’d been awaiting only his arrival, just as Master Ah Chung’s sampan came abreast of the fleet, the whole flotilla lit their heavy wire fire-baskets, which were then suspended over the sides of the boats on poles to attract the rising squid. Within a few minutes the fishermen’s barbed lures, which were sent down six and eight to the line, were drawing up multiple amorous squid per lure. The fishermen pulled the angry squid from the barbs and tossed them into wicker baskets. After a short while the sampan’s bailer-boys were scooping squid-ink-stained bilge water over the thwarts until the little swells about the boats turned from gray-green to jet-black. But still the squid kept coming by the hundreds.

  Dr. Lao-Hong found himself totally intrigued by the sights and sounds around him. Between the moon and the fire baskets, there was enough light to make out every detail of the fishermen’s activities. The bounty of the harvest gladdened the men’s hearts, and they happily called out to one another, making jokes and laughing like children at a dragon dance. Some men sang at their labors, and others chanted simple prayers of gratitude.

  After a while Master Ah Chung had his sampan moved closer to one of the boats. The old man in the bow called out something, and in return a nearby fisherman tossed him a half dozen small squid. With practiced expertise, the old man caught them one at a time in a small handbasket. Within moments he had the catch cleaned, skinned, and washed. Then he dropped the squid into a crock of seasoning to rest while he prepared the grill over the clay oven and fanned the charcoal to life.

  Master Ah Chung told the doctor the squid were now happily resting in a bath of rice wine, fresh ginger, green onions, soy, and toasted sesame oil. They both
watched in fascination as their cook went about his business with simple precision, sitting cross-legged in the bottom of the bow. Everything he might need was within reach, and he could easily wash his utensils over either side. The small clay oven had two handles to make it more portable, but it was also handy in case it became necessary, from the threat of fire, to heave the oven overboard. A stout cord tied through the handles secured the doused oven, so it might be retrieved and reused if it hadn’t shattered with the temperature difference.

  Dr. Lao-Hong turned to Master Ah Chung and said he thought fishing, though obviously rewarding, must be a very dangerous business indeed. He asked if they lost boats and crews on occasion. Master Ah Chung thought the question odd, and possibly a little inauspicious under the circumstances, but he indulged the landsman and answered in such a way as not to anger the spirits of the dead. He said that for more than five hundred generations his people had been the finest fishermen and sailors in China. There were men and women in this very fleet who could proudly name ancestors who served under great Imperial admirals. Over the centuries those brave seamen had tasted the waves of every ocean and sea in the known world. Master Ah Chung paused. Then he spoke in a lowered voice and said that over the centuries there had been quite a few unlucky souls who had gone to their venerable ancestors by virtue of their trade, for as his guest had so aptly pointed out, working on water was a dangerous business.