Down to a Soundless Sea (27 page)

Chow Yong Fat returned to the subject at hand and advised his young friend to purchase ten days’ ration of oats for the mule and to see to the condition of the harness, tack, and axles. He was to be particularly industrious where the axles were concerned. They needed a liberal facing of grease, and the grease bucket should be topped up for the journey.

Sing Fat was to do his best by the mule as well. The poor, moody creature might endorse the venture after a hearty bribe of carrots, or apples and sweet oats. Sing Fat was also to see that the contentious animal received a thorough currying and brushing. The apothecary insisted that the beast enjoyed a certain amount of normal vanity and preferred to be seen at its best in public. Last, the cart should be drawn up behind the shop in two hours’ time, ready for loading. They would begin their journey that very afternoon.

The elder Fat made no allowance for the score of questions Sing Fat wished to ask. He simply began his meal and waved his apprentice off about his chores.

Knowing it would have been discourteous to intrude further, Sing Fat looked to Sue May Yee for some expression of understanding, but she was preoccupied with serving the meal and did not meet his gaze. With a slight bow and shrug of resignation, Sing Fat turned to leave. His teacher called him back and, with a fatherly smile, offered his pupil a steaming, sweet pork bun. The elder Fat insisted the young man’s stomach would rejoice with gratitude. Sing Fat thanked his teacher,
looked at the girl once more, laughed, and floated down the stairs.

Two hours later Sing Fat returned with everything in hand. Even the mule seemed relatively pleased to be sporting a brushed, shiny coat and freshly oiled harness. All was prepared just as his teacher had requested, with a few items attended to that his master had forgotten.

Sing Fat had cleaned and scorched the small water barrels before filling them afresh. He had seen to purchasing two extra iron shoes for the mule and had also inspected the road box to make certain that the appropriate tools were in good order. He had also stopped by his own quarters to prepare a bedroll, fresh clothes, and a few provisions for the journey.

The elder Fat pronounced himself well pleased with his pupil’s enterprise and, still without a hint of explanation, gave instructions for the loading of the cart.

First a comfortable pallet of sleeping mats, quilts, and pillows was to be assembled well under cover, behind the seat. It was the apothecary’s wish that Sue May Yee should ride in absolute comfort. Then little wooden chests brimming with medicinal herbs and tinctures were loaded carefully in front of the axle to soften their ride.

Next Sing Fat stowed food and other stores securely padded by the mule’s grain bags. Lastly came the apothecary’s clever, combination workbench and medicine chest, with its threescore drawers, intricate scales, and utensil trays. This was arranged in the back of the cart in such a way that, when the tailgate was lowered, the whole became a broad working surface on which to measure and prepare complex prescriptions.

With the addition of the master’s traveling bag, all was set for departure. By three-thirty the mule cart was well on course
west down the old road to Monterey with the other farm traffic. The sun would hang high for quite some time, but the elder Fat remarked that if they were pressed to it, they might stop for the night with Sam Wah’s youngest brother, Kee Wah. Kee Wah owned a prosperous little berry farm just east of Monterey. He was in the apothecary’s debt for services rendered the previous spring.

All seemed right with the world in Sing Fat’s humble opinion, and though he would have appreciated knowing more about their present journey, he was content just to feel Sue May Yee’s warmhearted presence riding behind him. Every once in a while he would attempt to steal a glance at her sitting in the back of the cart with the white cat curled up on her lap.

While Sing Fat drove, or rather encouraged the mule, his teacher perused his notebooks, apparently intent upon finding a particular article.

Notwithstanding his bubbling curiosity, Sing Fat asked no questions until his teacher had put away his notes; then he burst forth like a fountain of inquiry. The elder Fat looked at his pupil with a perplexed expression and said he thought that he had already explained everything earlier. Sing Fat nodded but claimed that he had been told everything except their destination and the motive for going. The apothecary scratched his head like a muddled old wizard and apologized. He muttered something about advancing age and forgetfulness, and then went on to explain his purpose as though recalling it from a distant page.

He disclosed that Sue May Yee had brought a secret letter from an old friend and patient. The gentleman worked and lived in a mining enclave southeast of Carmel Highlands. His name was Han Foo Yeung, and he owned and operated several
“Chinese cookhouse” concessions and was contracted to a number of prosperous mines.

The elder Fat assumed that his pupil was most likely aware, better than most under the circumstances, that newly immigrated or smuggled Chinese miners often sickened and died on a frontier diet of kippered meat, beans, canned vegetables, and hardtack. This insight, discovered only after a notable loss of coolies and money, encouraged the mine owners to subcontract their laborers’ victual supply to other local Chinese.

These small businessmen, in turn, set up kitchens with Chinese cooks to prepare suitable rations at so much a head per day. With strong company affiliations, founded with the Hop Wo Association for instance, one could depend upon a solid and steady profit.

Chow Yong Fat winked and added that these same noble merchants gained considerable face and profit by servicing the needs of their less-fortunate countrymen. It helped if you were blind to their suffering as well. Han Foo Yeung was the best of that breed. An honorable man in the elder’s estimation.

He went on to say that Han Foo Yeung had written to say that a number of recently smuggled Chinese had come down with a malady so alien to the white miners that they feared even approaching the victims, much less treating the symptoms. The miners had confined the stricken Chinese to a ramshackle toolhouse and, aside from water and some food, seemed content to let nature take its course without the expense of dubious medical intervention and public disclosure.

With a promise of fair compensation, the ailing Chinese miners had seized on Han Foo Yeung’s suggestion and had humbly petitioned Master Chow Yong Fat to come to their aid as soon as possible. The apothecary was not sure what he
could do besides make the men more comfortable, but he was more than willing to gamble his talents against the vacant response offered up by the mine owners.

Han Foo Yeung had also hinted at additional inducements. Several natural treasures had come into his possession, and he was willing to relinquish these cherished articles in exchange for services rendered. Any one of the Six Companies would barter handsomely to obtain possession of such natural rarities.

Discretion prevented describing these items in writing, but the sender had appealed for indulgence on a promise of good faith. The elder Fat frowned and remarked that he might have been suspicious of any other man’s claims in such circumstances, but Han Foo Yeung possessed an astute and practiced eye in these matters. The situation must be very serious for a man of his predilections to exchange treasure for services.

Changing the subject and nodding in Sue May Yee’s direction, the elder Fat expressed his wish for a tranquil and untroubled journey to Point Alones. Sue May Yee, he said, had always worked too hard. A day or so of leisurely travel with trustworthy gentlemen companions to care for her might pass for something like a pleasant distraction.

Sing Fat’s teacher raised a finger and one sparse eyebrow to get his pupil’s attention. He ordered due consideration be paid to her every request. The apothecary tactfully reminded the young man that he was under considerable obligation to Sue May Yee for his care and recovery. The elder Fat might have saved his breath.

Sing Fat felt a warm flush climb his cheeks with the memory, but he assured his master that everything would be done as he wished. He well understood his obligations. They carried the mandate of heaven, and his own secret desire was
to prove worthy of her care. He said he would endeavor to make their honored guest’s excursion as comfortable and safe as possible. The elder Fat smiled, nodded approval, closed his eyes, and soon fell asleep where he sat.

Ten minutes later, a deep cross-rut in the road violently jolted the cart and almost launched the dozing apothecary into a rock-strewn gully. Only Sing Fat’s nimble response kept his master from serious harm. The elder Fat was most grateful, but somewhat flustered by a dream he was having at the moment of the accident. He thought he’d been thrown from the back of a great jade turtle flying through the clouds.

Sue May Yee, a woman used to taking charge where older men’s well-being was concerned, immediately stood up in the back of the cart and gently insisted that dreaming, like sleep itself, was best savored in the prone position. She insisted that the elder Fat change places with her so that he might take advantage of his own thoughtful accommodations.

Sing Fat remembered his teacher’s previous admonition on the subject of tender compliance and was pleased to find the policy so quickly applied by the master himself. After a moment’s rearrangement, the elder Fat was comfortably tucked up among his quilts in the cart bed, and Sue May Yee, basket, cat, and all were now perched on the driver’s bench next to Sing Fat.

For all his daydreams and aspirations, Sing Fat suddenly found himself speechless with bashful, boyish trepidation. One moment he felt so electrified by the girl’s proximity that he thought he might jump out of his skin, and the next he floated, tranquil as a mist and happy just to smell her faint perfume of rain, roses, and smoke.

The couple sat in silence until the mule’s distraction by tender roadside grasses forced Sing Fat to address the beast in
rather personal terms. There was an innocent, humorous tone to Sing Fat’s makeshift threats and entreaties.

Sue May Yee found the performance funny enough to laugh out loud, something she never did. Sing Fat also perceived the humor in the situation and laughed as well. This happy event opened the floodgates, and the two young people began to talk, at first cautiously and then continuously.

Occasionally the elder Fat would wake and listen from behind closed eyelids. To eavesdrop on the innocent gossip of the young gave him a guilty pleasure he could not resist. He listened to their gentle voices, and the sound conjured a memory of summer rain drumming softly on wood.

Sue May Yee told Sing Fat about her life growing up under the shadow of the Gold Mountain. She had been born in California and had never known her homeland at all.

Though willing to answer all questions candidly, she seemed genuinely far more interested in asking than answering. Though always polite, she proved insatiable, full of questions about Sing Fat’s life in China as a boy. She also begged to hear about his escape from the mines and his dangerous journey south.

Sing Fat, like most men, was flattered by the attention. He told Sue May Yee all she wanted to know. But the elder Fat, listening with only half an ear, was far more intrigued by his pupil’s omissions. Though he was straightforward in every other particular, Sing Fat never mentioned his treasure of gold dust, or how it was acquired.

Chow Yong Fat had seen many young courting couples in his day, and it was his considered observation that young men, like mating peacocks, flash all their plumage at once.

In the older man’s experience, wealth had always been a primary feather in that raiment, and yet his apprentice had avoided all mention of the subject. The elder Fat profited from
the insight at once. He was gratified to discover dimensions lurking beneath his young friend’s wistful veneer. With this novel observation affixed for future reference, Chow Yong Fat laced his fingers across his chest and drifted off to the gentle swaying of the cart.

Sing Fat would always cherish the memory of that afternoon ride sitting next to Sue May Yee. He had never been so happy in all his life. The very recollection of those first hours brought forth sensations of complete joy.

The couple whiled away the sunset hours talking about every subject that came to mind while the mule plodded west. Their mutual interests and sensibilities, reflected in almost every utterance, soon made a score of little recognitions unnecessary where a smile and a nod would serve.

The sun had set by the time the mule found his way to Kee Wah’s berry farm. By then the couple’s friendship had been sealed. They shared an unspoken intuition that gave them the undoubted impression that they had known each other forever. Their mutual trust was spontaneous and innocent, and even the elder Fat could see that their reciprocal esteem was based on a foundation of admiration for each other’s strengths and compassion for each other’s obstacles and misfortunes.

Kee Wah made the venerable apothecary and his entourage as comfortable as circumstances would allow, and all hospitable formalities were generously observed. Despite Kee Wah’s invitation to remain as long as they liked, the morning sun rose to find the cart entering the outskirts of Monterey.

Sue May Yee had accepted the invitation to sleep. She rested like a cargo of rare porcelain between fat quilts on a soft, straw pallet in the bed of the cart. The vigilant white cat stood guard over her mistress and her dreams.

Sing Fat had hoped to spend more time talking with Sue May Yee before their arrival, but the opportunity had not suitably presented itself.

Later, as he reined the mule cart down the narrow track that bisected Pacific Grove to Point Alones, Sing Fat’s reflections fell under the pall of impending separation.

Sing Fat had seen and experienced a great deal for his years, and the ever-present danger of vulnerability had taught him to hold his emotions in check. He had discovered early that survival often required a detached response to uncertain dilemmas, especially painful ones, but the emergence of this haunting young woman into his life had profoundly influenced his thinking. His sense of emotional equilibrium rebelled against the heart-throbbing chaos. But it was no use. Sing Fat was smitten and therefore helpless. Eventually he would resign himself to eventualities, as if the choice were really his own to make.