Dr. Lao-Hong took the hint and said no more. He instantly perceived that discussing such matters while engaging in the practice at hand was obviously considered unlucky, or at the very least insensitive. He immediately attempted to apologize for his rudeness, but Master Ah Chung quickly interjected that he was quite sure no offense was intended or taken.
Still, though he kept it to himself, the thought of drowned ships began to unsettle the doctor’s thoughts. The Three Corporations had lost a very valuable cargo in that manner only the year before. And though the goods were fully insured, the loss of so many lives was considered very bad joss indeed.
Master Ah Chung tapped the doctor’s knee and pointed to the bow. The old man had begun to prepare the smaller squid, tentacles and all, over the hot grill. Every few moments he would turn them over with chopsticks to avoid scorching. Soon the squid began to make gentle sizzling sounds, and the tentacles began to curl as they cooked. The aroma that drifted back along the boat was truly intoxicating, and even the men sculling the sweeps began to make appreciative comments and nods. The doctor watched as the cook reached into a round bamboo container and withdrew generous portions of precooked, sweet sticky rice. These he formed into thick, round patties, which he seasoned with red pepper flakes. Then, using a small brush made of goose feathers, he coated the rice cakes with a light sheen of sesame oil and placed them gently on the edge of the grill to toast. They too began to sizzle away; the second piquant aroma only enhanced the first. The doctor began to salivate with anticipation and, as if reading his thoughts, the old man poured out two cups of black tea from a small cast-iron kettle. He passed these back to his passengers, and they were accepted with thanks.
The doctor watched as the cook, who had the dexterity of an accomplished street vendor, rolled two wide cones from butcher paper. They held their shape by folding over the narrow bottoms. He set these into a little stand that had two wide holes cut out to cradle the paper cones. After making sure the rice cakes were nicely browned and crisp on both sides, he placed one in each cone. The cook topped the affair by slicing two perfectly grilled squid into manageable pieces and placing them over the rice cakes. As a final touch, he sprinkled just a bit of rice wine vinegar over his creation. He retrieved two sets of chopsticks from a lacquer box kept for that purpose, placed a set into each cone in a decorative V, and then passed the whole stand back to Master Ah Chung with a slight bow of the head. Master Ah Chung returned the salute and then offered his guest the first choice. Dr. Lao-Hong took up the nearest cone and brought it close to his nose. Perhaps it was the mingling of sea air with the fragrance of the food, but the good doctor was rock-sure that, aside from the jasmine-like scent of his beautiful baby daughter, he had never smelled anything quite so magnificent in all his life. With many compliments and thanks to the cook and Master Ah Chung, the doctor turned serious attention to his food. He found he was ravenous, and what was more, the grilled squid and rice cake tasted even better than they smelled. It was only his polite modesty that prevented him from asking for more. But he needn’t have bothered, for the old man had already begun to prepare two more portions.
Soon there were good-natured calls from the hardworking fishermen in the other boats. They laughed and hailed the cook to draw his boat closer so he might grill part of their catch too. At this point the fishermen were standing up to their knees in writhing squid. They would only quit fishing when their boats could safely carry no more and still make it back to shore without sinking. Greedy fishermen had been known to lose both boat and catch by misjudging their buoyancy.
As the moon rose higher, it also grew brighter. The doctor commented that one had a sense that the goddess was almost within reach of an outstretched arm. And still the fishermen labored incessantly to draw in multiple lures clustered with animated squid of all sizes. Each line gigged approximately thirty pounds of angry squid, by Master Ah Chung’s estimation. He affirmed that with the right conditions and tides, the squids’ mating frenzy under the light of the full moon could last for up to six hours. There were literally millions upon millions of them during this season of the year. He was convinced that with the proper care taken not to overharvest, the bounty offered up in this one bay alone could last for many centuries. It most assuredly could generate profitable work and greater wealth for many, if not poached by outsiders. By this Dr. Lao-Hong naturally assumed Master Ah Chung meant non-Chinese interests. Lao-Hong began to realize that these sturdy fishermen were a very pragmatic and conservative class in the main, and he deduced that their elders would be even more so, which gave him steep odds on failure.
As the fleet neared capacity, a small gong sounded from one of the boats. The last turbulent lines of writhing squid were hauled aboard and the boats, now burdened to the gunwales with their harvest, doused their fire-baskets in the water and turned their bows toward shore.
But that was not the end of it. Work would not stop until the villagers had set out the complete catch to dry on raised racks, big rocks, or any other flat surface available. It would take all hands many hours of constant labor. The smaller children were given light bamboo poles with small red flags tied to the ends. The flags had big predatory eyes painted on them in black ink. Thus armed, the children were employed to run around the drying racks and chase away the always voracious and devious seagulls. This labor was an absolute necessity, but the children had transformed it into a wonderful game, and one inspiring the formation of teams, the election of captains, and the constant invention of cunning tactics slated to defeat and humiliate their ravenous avian adversaries.
Because it was lighter and swifter, Master Ah Chung’s boat reached the shore first. The doctor even lent a shoulder to the job of pushing the vessel over crude rollers up onto the dry beach above the tide line. Once everything was secure, the doctor presented the two boatmen and the old cook with a ceremonial gift of five silver dollars each for their efforts and time.
Even though it was past midnight, Dr. Lao-Hong insisted that he wasn’t tired. He asked his host’s permission to stay on for a while and watch the boats unload their catches. The doctor said he wished to indulge a clinical curiosity, for he wanted to get some sense of the size of their harvest in one night.
Master Ah Chung pointed to a small, three-walled noodle shop not far away. He said it stayed open at night to serve the returning fishermen, who were always hungry after a hard night of working their backs into knots. He said they could watch the whole process from up there while enjoying a bowl of grilled fish and noodles, and be in no one’s way. He added that old Mrs. Chu Yung and her husband, the proprietors of the noodle shop, also owned two of the fishing boats. On nights when the catch was good, they were very generous with their noodles and their rice wine.
Dr. Lao-Hong insisted on playing host this time, and so purchased two steaming bowls of fresh-made noodles with steamed mussels, sea urchins, and green onions, and a small jug of rice wine to wash it down. Then the doctor and Master Ah Chung found a place on a bench made of driftwood overlooking the beach. They sat down to enjoy their food and watch the procedures yet to come.
When the heavily laden boats were still fifty yards offshore, a gong was sounded somewhere in the village, and suddenly people began to appear from everywhere. One of the first to arrive was an old man carrying an iron tripod that he set down in the sand. Within seconds he had a bright little bonfire going. Some of the villagers who followed carried torches mounted on bamboo poles, or small fire-baskets lofted the same way. These they set alight at the tripod, and then drove them into the sand to illuminate the beach. In no time at all, the whole scene took on a very festive air, but the torches were there only to ease a long night of hard labor.
The approaching fleet was too deeply burdened and low in the water to beach, so they secured themselves to the shore with long ropes. A third gong sounded, and suddenly every man, woman, and child in the village strong enough to shoulder forty pounds of squid came down to the shore carrying broad, shallow baskets.
They walked out through the shallow surf to the awaiting boats to exchange their empty baskets for ones full of squid, which they either shouldered or carried on their heads, back up the beach to the drying yards. The operation soon settled down to an efficient train of people coming and going.
As the boats unloaded their cargos, they rose higher in the water, and were then drawn closer onto the beach to ease the labor of off-loading. When the work was well under way, the boat captains released parts of their crews to refresh themselves. These men came up to the noodle shop and ordered food and hot tea.
Dr. Lao-Hong was slightly amused to notice that the fishermen, who normally rolled their pants up above their knees when they were fishing, were all stained blue-black by squid ink from the waist down. As tired as they were, the abundant harvest of squid had put them in a good mood, and they laughed and joked as they ate. When they had finished their noodles and tea, they returned to their work, and another batch of men were released to do the same.
It was now approaching two thirty in the morning according to the doctor’s watch, and he began to feel the exertions of the day. The work on the beach had continued without letup for two hours, and still the boats were unloading squid. Master Ah Chung suggested that perhaps it was time to take the doctor back to Lady Yee’s house. There might be a verdict from the elders at any time, and Master Ah Chung believed his guest should be rested enough to keep his wits sharp for the coming interview. The doctor agreed, but before following his host through the village to retrieve the buggy, he purchased a basket of fingerling squid, always considered a great delicacy, as a present for his generous hostess.
Once he was back at Lady Yee’s home, a sleepy-eyed houseboy answered the doctor’s gentle knock. The houseboy took the basket and gave the doctor a lamp to light the way to his rooms. Once there, Dr. Lao-Hong stripped off his borrowed clothes, washed himself thoroughly at the commode, and then went to bed. Toward sunrise, he became entangled in the strands of a distinctly frustrating dream that focused on a disastrous but somehow predictable shipwreck, and the mountains of lost cargo set adrift across the waves. Every attempt he made to gather up the widening spread of bobbing cargo and bring it back into the wounded ship failed miserably. The dream, which he later recalled in some detail, left him feeling thwarted, angry, and incompetent.
In quite a departure from his normal schedule, the doctor didn’t awaken until almost nine thirty in the morning. He rose at once, rang for tea, and then quickly washed and dressed. When the maid arrived with his tray, she announced that Master Ah Chung was waiting below. He had been there for over an hour. Dr. Lao-Hong requested that his guest be sent up.
A few minutes later Master Ah Chung appeared at the doctor’s door and was invited to enter. Master Ah Chung was obviously troubled by something, and so the doctor offered him a seat and some tea. The master said he had already had enough tea, and that he had come about their mutual business. With an air of sad resignation, he told Dr. Lao-Hong that he had been reliably informed that the elders’ vote would most likely go against any agreement to transfer Zhou Man’s treasure to the care of the Three Corporations.
Master Ah Chung went on to say that he wished the doctor to understand that his people honestly felt themselves to be the true heirs of Zhou Man’s legacy. After all, it was their ancestors who had manned the great treasure fleets, and they now believed it would be an unpardonable sin to allow their inheritance to leave the area. They believed that the presence of the treasure had brought great good fortune, as attested to by the abundant harvests of fish and squid that appeared after the village tong had taken possession of the artifacts. It had changed all their lives for the better, and they would not surrender the treasure without a serious resistance. He begged Dr. Lao-Hong to understand that just as he could not possibly sell the bones from his father’s grave, so too the village elders felt a pious obligation to protect their patron’s ancient legacy. It was all they had to unite them with their noble past, and made them feel as though they had not been altogether lost from the sight and blessings of their ancestors in this strange and angry land.
Dr. Lao-Hong voiced his sympathy for their predicament, but he reminded his host that the elders’ decision would not be the end of the matter by any means. To have their generous offer thrown back at their feet would mean that the Three Corporations, the most powerful Chinese trading house in California, would lose face. But on the other hand, he also acknowledged that for the village to relinquish their interests under pressure would mean that the tong, the village elders, and the villagers at large would also lose face. There had to be another solution to the problem that would not entail public embarrassment for either party, and yet still secure the treasures for the benefit of those people whose lives were sincerely bound to the importance of its presence among them. The stones had the power to secure good fortune and prosperity. Nothing else was important as far as they were concerned.
Frustrated to the point of distemper, Dr. Lao-Hong searched his thoughts for some vehicle of mutual salvation. Indeed, he even went so far as to confide in Master Ah Chung that he hadn’t the heart to return to his uncles with a notice of disappointment. The fact that one might lose face, and perhaps much more, was an unspoken possibility in every sphere of exchange, and both men knew it by custom and tradition; every nuance reduced to a nod or a gesture.
The two men sat quietly for a while looking out the window at the fishing boats on the bay. It appeared to the doctor that Master Ah Chung, who was well aware that his guest had been totally honest about his own position, was just as disturbed as he was by the possible consequences, and how they would affect future events for everybody.
As Dr. Lao-Hong quietly sipped his tea, his wife’s wise voice came back to him like a sweet, distant wind chime and suddenly an idea came into his head that was as audacious as it was dangerous. His imagination immediately spun out with all the darker ramifications, while at the same time he judged the purpose pure and the motive honorable. He also realized that the greatest hazard, and one that might defeat the plan, would come to pass only if too many people knew of the scheme.
Master Ah Chung was surprised to notice a smile light up his guest’s features. He waited politely for a moment or two. The doctor set down his cup, pressed his fingertips together as if in prayer, and confided that he believed he might have a solution, but one entailing great personal risk, possible loss of reputation, and worse. However, he would only divulge it if he could be assured that his host would take a blood oath sworn before his ancestors that he never reveal the device, or the doctor’s part in the scheme.
Suddenly a conspiratorial twinkle came into Master Ah Chung’s eye, and his mood lightened appreciatively. He at once persuaded the doctor that he would swear to any oath if it would resolve their present difficulties without bringing shame on his family, his tong, or his village. The doctor said he could make no binding promises in that regard, since karma and joss played such an engaging role in human affairs. Nonetheless, he agreed to reveal his thoughts, but he warned that events might require some sacrifices along the way, but hopefully nothing the village could ill afford to lose in light of what it might gain. Even so, Dr. Lao-Hong further admonished his host that he could do nothing to protect the village if the village elders neglected to protect him in turn, so he would require their written vows of silence as well.
The doctor went on to say that he thought it best if Master Ah Chung went to the elders alone and on his own behalf to present the design, so that later no one could honestly testify that it was the doctor who had either originated the scheme or put it into practice. In fact, he said he hoped to be far away when the final business was transacted. Only when conditions had been agreed to, and signed by all parties, would Dr. Lao-Hong divulge his plan, but even then only to those who really needed to know. All others were to be kept completely ignorant of the scheme for their own sakes. No one, he said, could be forced to divulge something they knew nothing about. And credibility,
in this instance, depended upon not only the illusion of sincere disinterest, but also the innocent participation of honest men who could not be told the truth. That was a heavy burden for the soul to carry.
Ah Chung nodded silently and rose to depart. He turned at the door and formally bowed and thanked the doctor for his wisdom, discretion, and empathy. He promised that word would be sent along as soon as possible. With that he left, and Dr. Lao-Hong sat quietly and paused for a while to arrange his thoughts.
———
THE DOCTOR HEARD THE HOUSEBOY’S gong announcing lunch. He slowly arose, looked himself over in the bedroom mirror, and decided he appeared somewhat haggard, so he combed his hair, adjusted his waistcoat and cravat, put on his suit coat, and went down to lunch. All the while he cradled the abiding hope that in sharing his thoughts with Master Ah Chung, he hadn’t slipped the proverbial hook through his own lip. But one way or another, like a bird released, it was all out of his hands now. He had learned in history class that a very simple idea can often have a tendency to take on a complex life of its own, especially when inspired and empowered by a perceived act of group survival.
Dr. Lao-Hong arrived at the table and was surprised to find Lady Yee, beautifully appointed in garments worthy of a court personage of high rank. He was even more taken aback when Lady Yee invited him to sit at her right side, always a place of honor for a guest.
After the maid poured tea, Lady Yee cast her eyes downward in regret and said that unfortunately this would be the last meal they would share together for a while. That very afternoon Lady Yee had been honored by an invitation to visit her husband’s cousin, who was now quite infirm from years at sea. He lived in Carmel Valley on a small ranch by the river that her husband had purchased for him after he’d been crippled during a violent storm.
In The Shadow of The Cypress Page 11