Son of Fortune (26 page)

Time froze. In the bright starlight, he saw the Andes bearing down upon their ship. This was odd, for the mountains were on the opposite side of the ship and didn't usually move. Then he realized it was not a mountain bearing down on them, but a wave. A monster wave, taller than the mountains, rising with impossible force out of the darkness.

The
Raven
was spun hard, pivoting around her anchor like the last child in a game of crack the whip. Rigging lines flapped, and a spar snapped up above. Aiden was thrown up in the air like a stuffed toy. Then he was in the water. The ocean surged and foamed and tumbled around him. A hunk of wood smacked his shoulder, then grazed his ear. He tried to grab it, desperate for anything to help keep him afloat, but it was gone the next instant. Debris swooshed and crashed all around. Salt water burned up his nose and down his throat. He felt a thump across his chest, as if he had been slammed into a tree trunk, then realized it was another ship's anchor chain. He tried to grab hold of it, but it was slick with algae. He did not bother to shout, for who could hear him, and he had no breath to spare anyway. Was the
Raven
sunk? Was every ship sunk? Something smacked hard against Aiden's knee—a shark? But sharks were probably too smart to be here now. Something smooth and wide slid under his arm. A sea turtle, Aiden thought, come to carry him safely to shore! He grabbed hold, pulling his body up over the shell, and grasped frantically for a handhold on a flipper. It wasn't a turtle, of course, but a broad piece of wood—a hatch cover torn from some ship. It was only about three feet square, but enough to help him float. He clung so hard his fingers went numb. After a while—minutes or hours, he could not tell—the violence eased a little. He looked around for a light, but every ship seemed to have vanished. He was still being pelted with debris and whirled around in little eddies that left him dizzy. His limbs grew cold and heavy, but finally he could lift his head enough to get a deep breath.

He felt the acrid sting of guano at the back of his throat—the smell could never have been so fabulous. He must be near the island! This ugliest, most wretched place in the world was now very desirable. A slimy drift of seaweed draped around Aiden's neck. He shuddered and combed it away. Then he could see it, just ahead, the pale guano mountain illuminated by the starlight. But Aiden's relief did not last long. Solid land didn't count for much if he couldn't get to it. The island was ringed by jagged rocks that in the mildest conditions could splinter a rowboat, let alone a man. It was like a bowl of candy guarded by a pack of rabid wolves. He had no idea where he was, and so no idea where he might get ashore. He might find one of the few tiny beaches where the sea lions rested, but would they attack him if he crept up among them? He had seen their yellow teeth and the scars they left on each other. He rested, such as it was, for a few minutes and tried to figure out what to do. He could try to swim back toward the anchored ships—if he had any idea what direction that was. And were there even any ships left? Could the giant wave have sunk them all? Could it have sunk every living thing in the world, like Noah's flood, and he was the only one left?

He heard the surf dangerously close. But he could also hear a change in the sound of the waves that signaled an opening through the rocks. There was no time to consider or doubt. He had to take the chance and swim for land. Aiden could barely feel his arms and legs, but somehow he made them move. It was here or nowhere, he thought as he began to swim toward the invisible beach. He crashed hard against a submerged rock and a sharp pain daggered through his leg, but there was no time to think about it. He could hear the crash of waves upon rocks on either side of him, meaning there might be some channel between them. He swam as hard as he could and soon his hand hit sandy bottom. A wave pushed him forward onto a pebbly beach. Air was everywhere and the land was real. Death loses again, Aiden thought as he collapsed onto the beach.

his is a nightmare, Aiden thought as he limped along the narrow beach looking for a path. Any minute I will wake up in my chair on the deck of the
Raven
with Fish laughing at me because I drooled in my sleep. But right now he was terribly awake in a terribly real time and place. He had no idea where he was, but open beaches were so rare on this island that any one of them would have a path leading inland. He just had to find that path, and somewhere up it he would find a way across to Koster's compound. The starlight cast only faint shadows, but he did begin to grope his way up what seemed to be a path. Still, the way was rough, and Aiden often stumbled, which sent lightning bolts through his injured leg. He stopped and vomited a salty bile, then limped on. The path was narrow and slippery, and quite steep at first, but finally it leveled out, and after a little while he saw flickers of light up ahead and realized he was at the edge of the coolie village.

The shacks were dark, but there was a dim orange glow coming from farther in, and he could hear voices. Aiden walked toward the glow, winding his way through the warren until he came to the little square in the center of the village. There were at least fifty men squatting or sitting around a tiny fire. More men stood behind them, pressed against the weathered buildings, squeezed shoulder to shoulder. With their thin bare chests and loose white trousers, they looked like moths. They all fell silent as Aiden walked into the circle of light. Then soft whispers and murmurs began. Every eye was on him.

“Hello,” Aiden said dumbly. “I am from a ship. There was a giant wave.…”

He couldn't read their faces. Surprise? Pity? Hostility? The fire popped and everyone jumped. Aiden saw a smooth piece of wood bubble in the flames. It was a piece of a ship's spar, the varnish blistering. The fire, he realized, was built from broken bits of ships that had just washed up. Of course—wood in this place was otherwise too rare to waste on a campfire. Maybe the coolies were burning bits of the
Raven
right now, he thought, rejoicing over the wreckage of their oppressors.

“I—I am sorry to bother you,” Aiden said. “There was a wave—”

Harsh laughter roared around the square. There was a shout from the back that, even in the unfathomable language, was clearly a taunt. A clod of guano hit his chest. Aiden couldn't see their faces, but he could sense the mood. The wave had not helped their own wretched circumstances, but it had hurt their enemy and so was an occasion to celebrate. Aiden's skin prickled with fear. He remembered the day when he and Nicholas had been harassed with “accidents” and nearly buried in guano. There had been guards around then. Aiden was alone here now. They had every reason to hate him, and they could kill him if they wanted to. A rock hit Aiden on the leg. He flinched. They could torture him if they wanted to—and why wouldn't they want to?—then kill him and dump him into the sea. His body, if it was ever found, would show no more damage than it already wore. He could not fight and there was nowhere to run.

Another rock whizzed by his face, and he ducked. There was more laughter, louder rumblings, more stones. He squared his shoulders and stood ready to fight, which was stupid since he was half lame and totally exhausted—and would still be stupid if he were fit since there were at least a hundred men in the square, and how did one fight against stones anyway?

Then one of the men stood up. He looked like all the others, but something in his posture set him apart. He had a certain grace of movement, a natural authority. He spoke to the group in a firm but conciliatory manner, like a good schoolmaster to unruly students. More angry shouts followed, but he appeared to deflect them with laughter and murmurs of calm. To Aiden, the foreign language sounded like complicated birds—the man could just as well be auctioning off his bones as negotiating his salvation. A thin crescent moon spliced itself into the starry sky. Then the man walked over and stood beside Aiden.

Aiden, to his embarrassment, was beginning to shake uncontrollably. His defender did not say anything, did not even look at him, but simply gripped his arm with a dry, roughened hand. More stones hit him, but they were small, taunting pebbles. There wouldn't be any big stones here, he remembered with sudden relief. Only the beach stones that might have been carried up for building, or small stones from seabird gizzards that may have dropped over the eons. But did seabirds even have gizzards?

He felt his legs wobble. The coolie pulled Aiden's arm around his shoulders and continued to talk to the crowd in Chinese. Though the anger remained palpable, there gradually seemed to be some resolution. His tone, even in the foreign language, sounded both commanding and consoling. There were a few more angry shouts, but also a wave of bitter laughter. Men began to get up and disappear into the dark. The fire was burning down, and they had to be back at the picks and shovels before dawn.

“Come now,” the coolie whispered in Aiden's ear. “Say nothing.” He dragged Aiden out of the square and back through the maze of narrow lanes. The coolie didn't say anything more until they were well outside the village. Then he eased Aiden down to sit on the ground.

“I am sorry,” he said. “I am dishonored for that. Please accept my deep apology.”

“No—” Aiden said, shocked to hear the man speaking perfect English. “I mean, thank you—you have done nothing to apologize for.”

“Those men are barbarians.” He spat. “Unworthy peasants!” He sat down beside Aiden, dropping his arms and forehead onto his knees and breathing heavily.

“Did they want to kill me?”

“Of course.”

“What did you say to them?”

The man turned his face, and Aiden saw his eyes glint in the faint starlight. “That killing a white devil is not worth the stain of his blood on this great pile of bird shit,” he said.

“Oh. Well—thank you.”

“In Chinese, it has more poetry.”

“I should probably go now,” Aiden said.

“Do not fear these men.” He flicked his hands as if shaking off something disgusting. “They are unworthy insects. In China, they would be lucky to empty the night pots from my family's house. Now we must talk quickly. The guards will come soon. They must not see that we talk.”

“How is it you speak English?”

“I am the educated man. I come from the noble family. My name is Jian Zhang. I am kidnapped.” He spoke quickly, overenunciating the words like someone out of practice who had been rehearsing in his head. “I am sorry—my heart goes very fast now.”

Help. Kidnapped. Father pay riches.

“You gave me the pottery pieces,” Aiden said.

“Yes.”

“How did you know I would find the message?”

“I did not know,” Jian said. “It was a chance. I take every chance. I scratch a message inside the water barrels that come to us. I sneak out at night to look for bottles on the shore and I put a message into the bottle. The first piece of bowl I give you in the quarry, I carry that piece tied in my clothing every day for more than one month waiting for a chance. I think I will drop it in the path of a sailor. Sailors come for trade for mummy—maybe one will be curious. Then I see the science men and think this is the best chance. So I beg that you will help me now,” Jian went on. “And also I offer the great reward.”

Aiden could barely make sense of anything. And he didn't really like a man who thought of other men as unworthy of emptying his piss pot. But Jian Zhang had certainly helped him just now, quite possibly saved his life.

“Who kidnapped you?” he said.

Jian looked around nervously, but the immediate night was still silent and dark. Every lamp in the coolie village had been extinguished. “I sailed from China to bring my sister to San Francisco to be married,” he said. “But the man—the husband—was false. This man, Silamu Xie, had me put on a ship and brought here.” His voice was pinched as he groped for the English words. “The family of Silamu Xie has bad feelings with my family for one hundred years in China. This marriage was to fix this—to bring our houses and our fortunes together. I am my father's only son. If I am dead, our fortune goes to my sister and so to Silamu Xie.”

“So why aren't you dead?” Aiden asked.

“Ah, yes.” Jian nodded. “You ask the wise question. If Silamu Xie had me killed, the revenge would be great. This way, he can explain that I was kidnapped without his hand. And I think it is more pleasure for Silamu Xie to have me here as a slave.”

“I'm sorry,” Aiden said cautiously. “But any man might tell this story to escape the life he has signed on for.”

“No man signs for this place,” Jian said angrily. “All are brought wrongly. They are promised a job in California for the gold or work on the railroad. Some are simply taken—fishermen or poor farmers. They are locked up in a prison and beaten until they agree to sign the papers. Some are sold by the family to pay off a debt. But you hear that I speak English very well—although not so right now. Also, look at me. You see the other men here. When men come here from China, they have been on a ship for six months. In that ship, they lie the whole time on bare boards. They are crowded like firewood. They cannot move or sit up. They lie in their own waste, in the dark, at the bottom of the ship, always wet and with disease and rats. Many die. The ones who live and come here alive are skinny as the bones of a dead man. And their skin is all covered with sores. But on our journey from China, we slept on cushions with silk sheets. We ate fresh eggs and pork.” He ran his hand down the side of his thin belly. “I was a fat man then. My sister teased that I would not find a beautiful wife. After I was kidnapped, I spent only one month in chains. So, compared to the other men, I was fat like a seal when I landed here.”

Aiden could see that while compared to any normal person Jian would be considered wasted, in this place he did indeed seem almost robust. His skin did not have the brittle yellow color, his joints were not swollen, his gums were still pink and all his white teeth were still there.