by Janine McCaw
“He sacked me. You told him that I didn’t put the tools away yesterday, didn’t you? I saw you trip and fall.”
Frank released his grip on Howser.
“You damn near broke my nose.”
“Well thanks for asking if I was okay, you son of a bitch,” Frank said sarcastically. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who left them there, but I didn’t tell him. He caught you, leaving them out (himself) a couple of days ago. He put two and two together.”
“Geez Frankie, he’s got me paranoid. I just assumed he’d figured out how you hurt your leg, and that maybe you had told him, you know, it was because of me.”
“The man’s got eyes in the back of his head John, you know that. He asked me about it, sure, when he saw me limping, but I didn’t tell him anything and I doubt anyone else did. We wouldn’t do that to you Howser, you know that. It would go against the brotherhood. He must have just figured it out. I’m no rat. We’re all in this together.”
“We were all in this together. What am I supposed to do now? He wants me out of here tomorrow. He took away my job, my home…what the hell, I might as well go on up to Ruby’s and drown my sorrows. A nip of gin and a nip of a young girl’s thigh. That might make me feel a bit better. There are still a few things he can’t take away from me. He probably can’t get it up at night, he’s such a hard ass during the day. Do you want to come along and have a boy’s night out?”
Frank just glared at him.
“What is with you, John?”
“Some day Frankie, when the itch comes a calling, and it will, you’ll feel a little different about such things.”
“I don’t have any itches, John. Get on out of here before I knock you senseless,” Frank said. “You know my wife’s due here today. Why don’t you just forget about Ruby’s and go clean yourself up. Stop by before you leave town tomorrow. You’ve been a good friend to me while I’ve been here, and I’d like Olivia to meet you.”
“You know Frankie,” Howser glared. “I’m not gone yet. Just once I’d like to have one up on old McMichael, just once. He thinks he’s the big tough guy, he thinks he’s untouchable, but he’s not. Wouldn’t you like to see one of the brotherhood take him down a notch? This wouldn’t have happened if we had all voted in the union like Bill Armstrong wanted. Then the brotherhood would have some real power.”
There had indeed been a brief movement to give an official title to the “brotherhood”. They got as far as sending a letter off to the union office in Vancouver before McMichael found out about it. The men never knew why they never received a call back for sure, but they had a pretty good idea. There seemed to be more than one piece of mail go missing that week. Armstrong and five of his buddies were suddenly unemployed. That would have been a tough one for Armstrong. He was ready for retirement and only had a couple of working years left.
“Maybe not. But Armstrong is gone, and there is no union. And sure, we’d all like to see McMichael knocked down a peg or two,” Frank agreed. “But John, he’s not worth it, really. You said your cousin could get you a job at the docks in Vancouver, maybe McMichael just did you a favour.” He noticed the glimmer in Howser’s eye. He was worried about his friend.
“John, don’t go doing something stupid. Leave it alone. Stop by for breakfast tomorrow morning before you leave.”
Frank patted his friend on the back and ushered him through the door.
“Life goes on John. You’ll find another job. You’ll be fine. A year from now you’ll be thanking your lucky stars you’re out of here. You’ll see. Just don’t go doing something stupid.”
There was a vacant stare in John Howser’s eyes as he started to walk up the hill.
Chapter Four
The first Japanese pioneer in Canada arrived around the year 1877. Manzo Nagano left Nagasaki dreaming of the New World, and found work on a ship carrying goods from Japan to Victoria, British Columbia. Throughout the years, many young Japanese men followed in his footsteps, hoping to make as much money as possible to bring back to their native lands. The work was hard, and the wages were low, averaging a dollar sixty-five per ten-hour day. If they stayed in Canada for a year, their bosses often rewarded them with an increase of salary to two dollars a day. By order of the crown they could not be pharmacists, lawyers, or members of the government. Because of the cost, it often took much longer than they had originally expected before they had saved enough money to return home.
In Canada, there was a general anti-Japanese sentiment during the early 1900’s. There was no real reason for it, perhaps just a fear of an unknown culture invading the land. Shinichi Yada found this to be the case when he arrived in Canada around the turn of the century with his wife Fujiko. He had been a doctor in Japan, but upon arrival found that he was not able to practice medicine in this new, strange country. He found work on a strawberry farm in the Fraser Valley, east of Vancouver, and through hours of hard work and scrimping, the Yada’s managed to eventually buy a plot of their own. They had two children, both adults now, a daughter also named Fujiko, who worked as a housekeeper for a wealthy Vancouver couple, and a son Hiroshi “Harry” Yada, who was now employed at the Britannia Beach mine.
It was forbidden in those days, for a young Japanese man to be seen with, let alone marry a Caucasian woman. So it was that Harry found himself like other young Japanese men, looking for a “picture bride” from back home. Ten years ago his wife Akiko had arrived from Japan in this fashion. She had heard that Canada was a wealthy land, where there was lots of food and big homes. She was disillusioned to learn that her husband was poor. There was no big house, but at least there was plenty of food.
“Oh my lord,” she said, clasping her hand over her mouth as she gazed at the mining town that was to become her home. Harry had not lied to her, he had told her that he had a “modest” income by most standards, but Akiko felt that perhaps he did not speak the entire truth either. As she got off the boat with the strange white Captain she could not understand, she placed a few grains of rice in the sand for good luck. Now she was about to meet the man that she had only seen a picture of, and she was hoping the image she had created of him in her mind was not a disillusionment, like the image her mind had concocted of Britannia Beach. Akiko was an average looking woman, a bit on the heavy side. You couldn’t call her beautiful, but you couldn’t call her unattractive either. She fell somewhere in the middle. Her more beautiful sisters had been eagerly placed into arranged marriages by her parents, but it seemed there was no eager suitor for Akiko. Her chance to move to Canada was a chance for her to break away from her parents, which, if the truth be known, is why she agreed to become a picture-bride in the first place. Harry, on the other hand, was an ugly sort. But he was a very kind, very smart man, and in the end, Akiko knew she was fairing far better than her sisters back home. She grew to love him, and he grew to love her, although secretly the fact that she was five inches taller than he was, disturbed Harry to no end.
Their marriage appeared to be a happy one. Akiko became pregnant but lost the first baby in the second trimester of pregnancy. Their second chance proved fruitful however, and their son Jimmy was born. He was a sansei-third generation Japanese-Canadian. He had turned seven the day before last, and was happy playing with the wooden toys Harry had carved for him out of scraps of lumber he found around the town site. Harry had loved to carve wood since an early age. But his passion was his knowledge of chemistry, passed to him from his father’s medical days. He had spent hours with his father pouring over the periodic tables, as he had once hoped to become a doctor himself here in Canada. He never made it to university, but his knowledge of the elements had landed him a job in the assaying department of the mine, and he was thankful for it. Unlike many other Japanese workers who lived at Britannia, ten to a bunkhouse, Harry and Akiko were fortunate enough to have a small home in the Japanese district of Britannia.
While Harry had learned English early in his life and was truly a bi-lingual asset at the mine, Akik
o was still struggling with the language, and because of this, had difficulty at first finding any sort of work at Britannia. She had managed to earn some extra income as a night cleaner for J.W. McMichael.
“What time to do you think you’ll be finished cleaning the hall tonight, Akiko?” Harry asked.
“Around two in the morning,” she replied in Japanese.
“Two a.m.?” he retorted. “Well, I suppose it’ll be midnight before the people are gone and you can finish up. Still, that’s very late. We really have to try to find you another job.”
“I do not mind,” she said.
“Well, I mind. You deserve better than this Akiko. In Japan, your family was in the silk manufacturing trade. A very honourable profession. Many people looked up to your family. I want the same for you here. Perhaps we can work on our English again tonight, hei?”
Akiko sighed and went into the bedroom.
So it would be as it always was, she learning English so slowly, while her young Jimmy picked up both languages, Japanese and English so quickly. He could chat back and forth easily in both, never mixing the two. At least, she thought, he would have a good future in this strange land.
Unbeknownst to her, little Jimmy was learning something else from his father. That love of science had been passed along from father to son and to son again. Late at night, when his mother was working and his father was fast asleep, Jimmy was reading some of his grandfather’s old medical texts by candlelight. He particularly liked the ones about Chinese acupuncture and eastern medicine practices his grandfather had picked up while travelling.
Harry heard a scream come from the bedroom. He rushed in to find Akiko standing with her hand over her mouth, pointing at her collection of little silk Geisha dolls she had so carefully packed and brought with her from Japan. They all had little pins sticking out from their heads, arms and legs.
“It is the devil,” Akiko cried in Japanese. “It keeps happening. I take pins out, pins go back. This God-forsaken place. Maybe we should leave.”
Harry went back into the livingroom and gave Jimmy a smack across the head.
“I told you to stop doing that,” he said.
“I need to practice where to stick the needles,” Jimmy laughed. “For when I become a doctor. I’m studying hard, like you want.”
His father looked at him.
“Maybe we should practice on you, you think it’s so funny?”
They stared sternly at each other for a moment and then both broke in to helpless giggles.
Akiko came out and saw them both rolling on the floor, laughing.
“Men,” she sighed.
Chapter Five
The Port of Vancouver was busy with container ships bringing in exotic treasures from the Orient. Situated in Georgia Straight, Vancouver was the southern most point on the west coast of Canada, and as such was the gateway to the Pacific Rim. Victoria, the Capital of British Columbia, was actually situated on Vancouver Island, to the west of Vancouver, which was a geographical point many found confusing. Although Victoria was the political capital of the province, Vancouver was its major centre. Frenchie figured it was because politicians and businessmen had to be kept apart.
“Ye might get a liddle rain,” the Captain said as the Northern Mary headed out of Burrard Inlet. The stay in Vancouver had been a short one, as Lucy predicted.
“Dem North Shore mountains,” the Captain continued, “dey tend to sock in de wedder. Way o’er der, way east, dat’s Mount Seymour. De one in de middle, dat’s Grouse, and de one towards where we’re headed, dat’s Cyprus. I dunna know how de got dose names, but I do know ‘ow de Couve did. It was named after Captain George Vancouver, who first came ‘ere. I think he was Dutch, but ‘e was a Captain for sure, dat’s why I remember. Just a little ‘istory for ye. Maybe some day, dey will name a piece of land after Frenchie Cates. What do you tink, eh?”
“I think it’s very beautiful here,” Olivia stated. “Not the port so much, it looks like most other ports, really, at least to me. But on the other side of the water, by those mountains, it some of the most beautiful country I’ve ever seen.”
“And see that big mountain o’er south, that’s Mount Baker we were talkin’ about befer. I’ve seen it up and down de coast, and I tell ye, ye get the best view of it right ‘ere in Canada.”
Frenchie noticed Olivia removing the blanket Lucy had loaned her earlier.
“You probably tot it would be very cold ‘ere eh? Tres frois. And yeh, in some places in Canada, ye would be right. The very east coast, dem Maritimes, dey are cold mostly all de time. Dey ‘ave storms dat keep a banshee’s nipples ‘ard until de summer. All de way down de St. Lawrence, de big river dat runs east-west, it’s de same ting mostly, maybe not quite so bad. Sometimes de river is frozen with ice. Ye go nowhere. But de summers, de are very ‘ot. Very ‘umid. Ye sweat like a pig, ye do. Der are lots of lakes and rivers as you go east tru Quebec to Ontario. Den ye get to the Prairies. Deys flat. Lots of wheat grows der in the summer, but it is damn cold in de winter. Dey grow lots of mosquitoes too. And grass’oppers. I dunt know what it is, but dey get more grass’oppers den anywhere else in de world, I tink. And dey ‘ave tiny little flies dat bite and make ye scratch too. I went der once to see my sister, den I told ‘er from now on, she ‘as to come and visit me. Den ye get to Alberta, where der are not so many lakes, but der are lots of mountains, and deer, and elk and wild buffalo. De land der is very rich with minerals, which is very good, and I ‘eard talk dat dey tink der maybe a lot of oil under de ground. Can ye believe dat?”
“What about Britannia Beach?” Olivia asked. “What are de, I mean, what are the winters like there?”
“Well, dey are not so bad as some places. You know what it is like in Seattle. Rain, rain, and more rain. Mostly de same ‘ting ‘ere. De winds dat come across de Pacific Ocean are mostly warm. Dey keep things pretty calm. But sometimes ye get a blast from Alaska, like we did in 1912. Dunt blame me for dat, dat’s one of your United States of America. Den it can get really cold. Now where Lucy lives, up at Jane camp, well, we got tirty-five feet a snow one day. Sometimes if it’s really bad, we dunt see Lucy fer munts. Sometimes we get a lot of snow. De Beach site, where your house is, dat’s a liddle milder, counta de currents comin’ off de ocean. You’ll need good boots but we’ll be able to find ya,” the Captain laughed.
Olivia smiled. Frenchie’s words were re-assuring.
“You told me you’ve been working these waters for some time.”
“Aye,” he replied.
“You probably know the history of the mine quite well…”
Frenchie noticed some hesitation in Olivia’s voice.
“Misses, if ye got a question ye be best ta be like Lucy and just spit it out. I’m gittin’ old, der’s no time for beatin’ around da bush,” he winked.
“Well, I was wondering…you hear about these things so often and Frank assures me everything’s fine, but then he would, wouldn’t he? Have there been any deaths at the mine?”
The words were so full of uncertainty that Olivia didn’t really know whether she wanted to hear the answer or not.
“No, I can’t say as I recollect any of late, at least not any dat didn’t ‘appen just because de miner was drunk or stupid or both. Der was dat doctor who conked ‘is ‘ead, and died, but ‘e was stupid dat dey. Dat’s why McMichael, ‘e has de foremen check de worker’s breath before a shift ta make sure des sober befer ‘e let’s dem clock in. I dunna like de man, but ‘e runs a tight ship like dey say, I’ll give ‘im dat. Always lookin’ out fer safety, not like de guy who ran it befer. Der used to be more cave-ins and tings before McMichael took over. Tragic dey was, lost a lot of good men. But nottin’ like dat fer a while. Not like what ‘appened in Alberta. Dat was bad. De whole side of Turtle Mountain, it come tumblin’ down. Killed a lot of people. McMichael, ‘e read de report on dat and ‘e hired some engineers from de Asbestos mines in Quebec to come ‘ere and take a look-see. No misses, anyting dat happens no
w would be an act of God, like dey say. And den God would have to deal with de temper of McMichael, and I dunt tink even ‘e wants to do dat, so I dunt worry aboud it too much.”
“Do you worry about anything, Frenchie?” she asked.
“Not much Liv.”
Olivia blushed when he said her name.
“Well,” he said, “if yer gonna get familiar wid me, den I tink you have to extend me the same courtesy. I’m calling ye Liv. At least when it’s just us girls talkin,” he winked. “Der’s tings in life you can’t change. You can’t change de wedder. You can’t change de mind of the Irish-remember dat when Lucy drives ye nuts. Ye can’t change water into wine, even doh it would be a good ting if ye could. So, I try not to worry about worryin’.”
“You sound like a smart man,” she commented.
“No, I’m not smart. I’m born wid a lot of common sense doh, and I wouldn’t trade dat for all the schoolin’ and smarts in de world. I’ve seen many a smart man do a stupid ting, let me tell ye. I got a good memory, too. I hardly ever forget a face. Dat man who was wid ye back in Seattle…”
“My father.”
“Okay. Yer fadder. ‘E’s been on my boat befer.”
Olivia remembered her father’s warning about telling to many tales about her family to strangers.
“I don’t think so Frenchie. People always say that, that he looks familiar to them. It happens all the time. We’ve often joked that he has a twin brother running around somewhere.”
“Well, den, I must be mistaken. Must be de “deja-vu”. Dat’s what we say when ye feel like ye’ve seen, or been somewhere befer. ‘E must have a common face, like ye say.”
But Frenchie knew better.
It had been a rough night a sea some twenty odd years before, the night he carried William Bower up to the Beach. The waters were choppy and an eerie grey green in colour. It was dark and it was late, but no one aboard the Queen Mary was in a mood to sleep. The swells were crossing the deck and the winds had not let up for several hours.