by Laurence Yep
Uncle wants to show me our mining operation, so I’ll finish when I get back.
Late evening
We went over to the river. I could hear the roar from the rapids about five hundred meters above. Here the river widened and the water slowed. Uncle said it was a natural spot for the gold to drop out of the water.
He explained that we are going to construct what the Americans call a wing dam. We will build a wall from the riverbank out into the river. Then we will build another wall at right angles to the first, cutting off an area of the riverbed. From that we will pluck our gold.
I dipped my hand into the water. It was icy cold. More melt-off from the snow on the mountaintops.
As I rubbed my numb hand, I wondered how we are ever going to get the gold out of its freezing clutches. I asked if we would find melon-sized nuggets. Uncle shook his head sadly. The gold will be dust.
So the driver was right. Uncle had just been talking big again. I just hope there is some gold left.
July 13
For breakfast we had rice porridge with sausages and crullers. I’ve never eaten so well in the morning.
It helped make up for last night. Though the day was hot yesterday, the night was so cold that I didn’t sleep too well.
Like a lot of men here, Uncle has gotten American clothes. They were made for this climate. My own thin cotton clothes are meant for the tropics at Tiger Rock. That clerk in Sacramento was right. I do need boots and a coat. I shiver and cough most of the time.
Time to go to work. Tree trimming should warm me up.
Afternoon
Really hot this afternoon. The sun beat down on me like a hammer. And I swallowed as much dirt as I shoveled. A lot of it stuck to my throat. All I could think of was how nice it would be to work in the cool water.
Then I remembered how cold that water really is, and I was glad I was on the land.
All I do now is trim trees and haul away the branches. I’m no better than water buffalo plowing a field.
It’s been so long since I’ve read a book. And I’m so tired from work that it’s hard even to think. I almost didn’t write today. But I can’t let that happen. One day would lead to two, and then a week. And then I’d stop completely.
And then maybe my mind would go dead, too. Then I really wouldn’t be any better than a buffalo.
I wonder if Hiram is just as tired as me. The Americans are building a big dam across the river itself. So he’s probably just as busy.
Am I sounding like I’m whining? I shouldn’t. The work gives me the money to help my family. And there’s Uncle to watch over.
That Prosperity fellow is always bragging. Most everyone tries to avoid him. So far he hasn’t said anything to me, but I catch him staring. Like now. I still can’t figure out what he wants.
Time to eat. Dinner smells good.
July 14
Cold last night. Hot today. I heard an animal howling. Uncle says it was a coyote.
I finally found out what Prosperity wants. As I was starting to write today’s entry, he asked me to write a letter to his family back in China.
I told him what I had told Sunny — that I am no scholar. But his face reminded me of my dead friend. It’s kind of hungry. Not for food but for home.
So I tore a page from my diary. For a letter home, I thought I should get out my brush and inks and inkwell. Prosperity watched, fascinated as I filled the well with a little water and then rubbed the ink stick against the side until the ink was just right.
The letter itself took only a little longer than mixing the ink. Prosperity apologized to his family for not sending home as much this month but promised five times as much next month. He has some business investments that are going to pay off soon.
When I had signed his name and let him make his mark, I was surprised when he left an American coin. It was a copper one called a penny.
I told him that the letter was free. He wouldn’t take the coin back, though.
Uncle had been on my other side. He was curious about Prosperity’s investments, but Prosperity only apologized. He couldn’t tell anyone or they might want in on it, too.
Uncle looked so sad that I asked him what was wrong. He said he is letting our family down because he isn’t as successful as Prosperity.
Before I could try to comfort him, another man came over and also wanted a letter written.
And then there was a third. Word must have spread through the camp. Even the cook came to have a letter written.
By the time I was finished, Uncle was already asleep. So it’s too late to talk to him. I’m starting to yawn myself.
July 15
I’ve been doing letters for all the others. Though I’m still just as tired from work, it’s nice to feel needed. I may not be able to shovel or haul as much dirt as they can, but I can do something most of them can’t.
And I’ve got a small pile of pennies now. At first, I thought of saving up for a coat and boots. However, Uncle’s still been moping around. He has not been the same since he heard Prosperity boasting.
I know. I’ll give my pennies to him. We’ll tell our family that one of Uncle’s investments is paying off. And in a way, it is. After all, he brought me over here.
It’s not a lot, but I’ll feel like I’m helping out.
I’m worried about paper. At the rate I’m writing letters, I will run out of it soon.
I’m going to the Fox’s tent. Most people stay away from there because he doesn’t like to be bothered after work. I’m going to ask him to have blank notebooks brought up with the next batch of supplies. After all, I can pay for them now.
Later
When I poked my head inside the Fox’s tent, he said he’d seen me writing letters. Can I cipher as well and use an abacus?
I told him I can do that a little.
He held up a hand that is so covered with calluses, it is as leathery as a horse’s hide. He told me his fingers were meant more for holding a shovel than a brush. If I could help him keep the accounts he would pay me a full salary and keep me in all the paper and ink I needed.
I thought of the clerk’s fancy ink sticks and fine writing paper and asked for good ones.
The Fox must be desperate, because he agreed.
I thought I’d just cut down trees in America. However, maybe America needs strong minds as much as it needs strong backs.
Perhaps there is a place for me here after all.
Evening
It’s late now. I’ve been learning the Fox’s bookkeeping system. But I also want to write down all the secrets I picked up.
Uncle sent so much money home, I thought he must be earning a fortune here. However, he’s making only two dollars a day! Sixty dollars a month isn’t a lot — especially when he has to pay for his own food and other items.
American dollars must be worth more in China. And the pennies I earn for letter writing will be useful after all.
The other thing is that Uncle is listed as a skilled carpenter. That was news to me. The most he’d done in China was make shelves and little boxes.
I had another surprise when I saw how much the others like Prosperity are getting. They are getting only a dollar and a half, and the Fox added on expenses for food and other items.
Uncle and I are the only ones who bought our own tickets. The others are still paying off theirs. The Fox deducts a certain amount each month and sends it to San Francisco to be passed on to the various people who own the notes.
As I went over the entries in the ledger, I realized that not only does Prosperity owe someone for his ticket, but he has also borrowed heavily from the Fox. He has a whole page of debts that will take him fifteen years to pay off.
The Fox made me promise not to tell anyone. He explained that Prosperity kept coming to him with sob stories about home. He believed them until he learned that Prosperity was gambling it all away. There won’t be any more loans. So much for Prosperity’s business investments.
The Fox had a let
ter for Uncle. It was in a pile of mail that came today. I can’t wait to read it. I even sniffed it to see if I could smell something from home. Too many hands had handled it, though.
When I got back, to my disappointment, Uncle wasn’t in the tent. The others said he went out for a walk. Probably to mope.
I was tempted to open the letter myself. I started writing in my diary to distract myself.
I hear Uncle’s footsteps now.
Later
Uncle was just as excited about the letter as I was. His hands shook as he opened it. Father had Blessing write it. I’m copying some of it:
How are you? It has been terrible here in China. It has not stopped raining since Runt left. The floods have ruined the first rice crop. Prices are already rising on everything. Heaven knows what we will do if we lose the next.
There was more bad news about the wars and rebellions. Yet another group of Chinese was trying to overthrow the Manchus. They had won a big battle. Normally, I would have cheered, but now there were more taxes to pay for a new Manchu army.
So we thank heaven for the money you send to us. In other villages that are guestless, families have had to sell everything, even themselves. We have prospered. And our clan survives, thanks to you. I hope you don’t mind. We have had to postpone plans to buy more fields because we are helping out the clan. Could you send more money?
Everyone blesses your name, Precious Stone.
Then the letter went into gossip about the clan that I don’t think has any place in a serious book like mine.
Blessing added at the bottom:
Our teacher gives us more and more homework. You don’t know how lucky you are.
Blessing doesn’t know what luck is. I would trade places with him in the blink of an eye.
Uncle had been awfully quiet. I caught him with his legs crossed, studying one of his boots. He said he had been going to get a new pair, but he supposed he could patch them instead. Then we could send more money home.
I thought of the baby chicks demanding to be fed. It doesn’t seem fair. They don’t know how little we actually get.
Uncle, though, liked the fact that the clan blessed his name. Before, he was a joke.
I decided to beg some candles from the cook. That way I can write more letters. If I send more money, maybe the clan won’t think of me as Runt anymore.
July 16
Big Bend
I’m scared.
At first, I didn’t pay any attention to the American when he walked into camp. However, all around me the other miners jerked their heads around like a flock of startled birds.
Uncle got hold of me and told me to be careful because the tax man was here.
Uncle explained that the Americans tax foreign miners. They had started it last year. The price was very high at twenty dollars a month. The purpose was to drive a lot of the Australians and the South Americans from the gold fields. And it had. So they had stopped the tax.
But recently, the Americans had passed another law. This time mainly against the Chinese.
The other miners reluctantly began to pull out their money. For three dollars they received a slip of paper. That was their license for the month. They would need that to be able to work in the gold fields.
At least the tax is lower, but three dollars a month is still a lot of money. It means a lot of food or clothes that couldn’t be bought at home.
Uncle paid the tax man for both him and me and got our “licenses” for the month.
Suddenly the tax man shouted something. I saw Prosperity trying to slip into the trees. Prosperity started to run then, and the tax man pulled out a gun and shot him. With a scream, Prosperity went down. He was holding his leg, so I guess he had been hit there. Prosperity tried to make excuses, but the tax man didn’t understand his Chinese.
Everyone else was just standing around. “We’ve got to stop him,” I said to Uncle. Uncle held me tight. The tax man could do anything he wanted to collect the taxes.
I turned to the Fox and begged him to lend Prosperity the money. The boss refused, saying that he had already told me why he couldn’t.
“But when his business investments come in, he’ll pay you,” Uncle said.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say that there were no such investments, but I saw the warning look on the Fox’s face.
In the meantime, the tax man continued to demand to be paid. When Prosperity just kept on begging, the tax man slipped a knife from a sheath on his belt and pressed the tip against Prosperity’s arm.
“He’s going to kill Prosperity,” I said.
The boss explained that the tax man gets to keep part of the taxes he gathers. If he killed Prosperity, that was one less person to be taxed next month.
Finally, some of Prosperity’s friends scraped together three dollars.
I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight. I’ll be hearing Prosperity’s screams in my dreams.
I was just starting to feel comfortable here. Not anymore. We’re in a strange country where they can do anything they want to us.
I wish I were home.
I wish I were safe.
July 18
Big Bend
There’s another difference in American and Chinese calendars. This is a nice one. An American week has only seven days instead of ten like a Chinese one. The Americans call the seventh day Sunday. They don’t work that day.
The Fox is following the Americans. He lets us have a day off every seven days. It’s one American custom I don’t mind.
That doesn’t mean I’ve been lazy. This morning I’ve been writing letters for the other men. Uncle sat with me, mending the tears in my clothes. I think I could have done a better job of sewing. However, he said he wants to stand in for Mother as well as Father.
I have written everything in the letters from general wishes to stories that make me want to cry. Fathers wonder about their children. Husbands want to know why they have not heard from their wives.
They talk about their investments. (Real ones, not fake ones like Prosperity’s. Some of them sound good enough to suggest to Uncle.) They tell me their plans on what fields to buy and what houses to build back in China. I hear all their dreams.
Prosperity was the hardest to listen to. He finally confessed to his family that he had gambled away all their money. There would be no more money for a long time. (I just wish I could have put his tears in as well.) His letter left me feeling tired.
That’s when Uncle put his hand on my shoulder and said that I should enjoy my first day of rest in America. He was the opposite of Father, who could not stand to be idle or see either of his children idle.
I told Uncle that I’d work only until mealtime. I was really looking forward to that. We’re going to have chicken for our big meal. The cook has been plucking them this morning. There are little white chicken feathers all over like flower petals.
So Uncle went off on his own. I hope I didn’t hurt his feelings.
Later
I’m writing this during a short break.
At first, when I heard all the shouting in camp, I thought the tax man had come again. Then I saw Uncle moving toward me. He towered over the laughing crowd around him.
Then I realized he was on a horse! I can’t exactly say that he “rode” the horse. His hands clung to the mane as well as the reins. And sometimes he sat on top of the horse, while other times he lost his balance and lay on his stomach on the horse’s back.
The horse wasn’t going fast. In fact it was plodding slower than a water buffalo on a hot summer day. When I asked Uncle where he had gotten the horse, he told me he had rented him from the drayer, and that we were going for a ride. Before I could get on the horse, Uncle insisted that I change my clothes. He gave me some parcels that had been tied to the saddle. There was an American felt hat with a soft brim, a warm coat and wool pants like Uncle’s, and boots.
I caressed the clothes and boots. I knew they were expensive.
I could just
see my father frowning at home when he heard about the extravagance. I tried to get Uncle to take them back.
Uncle said no. My father wouldn’t want me shivering at night. I wouldn’t do anyone any good if I died from the cold.
The heavy red flannel shirt fits fine and the pants can be taken up. The pants have pouches sewn inside them. The Americans call the pouches pockets. They’re handy things. The boots are a little big, so we stuffed some rags into them.
After getting dressed, it was time for our ride. When I got on the horse, I had never before felt so tall.
Though we wanted to go to the top of the hill for the view, Uncle had trouble turning the horse, which clopped along with a mind of its own. To save his pride, I mentioned that the scenery here was pretty nice already.
Uncle seemed grateful as he let the horse pick its path. Tall trees grew on either side. Through the branches, I caught glimpses of the river. The sunlight reflected off the surface in hundreds of curving smiles.
I might have enjoyed the scenery more if I hadn’t had to concentrate so much on staying on top of the horse. You wouldn’t think a horse could be so slippery.
When I finally fell off, Uncle tried to catch me and fell off, too. That’s why we’re taking a rest. I just hope we can get back on the horse.
Afternoon
The strangest thing we saw today was in an open field. There were dozens of sticks crossed like the Chinese word for ten.
When I asked Uncle about it, he explained that the cross is a religious symbol and marks a grave. We were at an American cemetery.
Off to the side, a service was going on. A lot of the American miners were in their best clothes and their hair was slicked down. They were listening to a man speaking over a coffin beside an open grave. As I stared at the coffin, I thought again of Sunny. And of my cousins. And of Jubal’s group. And of Hiram’s brother.