The Silver Lotus (22 page)

Captain Hammond thought it was about time he said something just to keep his hand in the game, but he was at a loss for anything more
constructive than a question. He set aside his plate, sipped his chilled tea, and asked his wife just how she had planned to nullify these impediments, especially now that she had already contracted for Dr. Neruda's services for three years.

Lady Yee appeared to look inward as she spoke, as though addressing an unseen presence. It was as if she were speaking to the powers of ancestry and soliciting their approval. The captain had experienced these charming soliloquies before. His wife often arranged her thoughts out loud, and once he came to understand how she tailored her ideas, her husband happily indulged the practice. It gave him occasional insights about the workings of her mind, but that too could be misleading, as she often changed and adapted her ideas before putting them into practice. This tactic gave her an edge that was totally beyond censure. She told you what she might do, and then did or didn't do it, whatever she was pleased to consider most expedient to accomplish her goals. The only consistency the captain could depend upon was his wife's total unpredictability. Happily, he always found this side of her nature most entertaining, and he lived with the assurance that whatever she chose to do, Lady Yee had the greatest good in mind. In that particular, Silver Lotus was the most philanthropic and generous of creatures, a trait not common in most people, regardless of origin or cultural influences.

Lady Yee waited until after the maid had cleared the fish course and served Ah Chu's hearty potage of wild boar, spring onions, and oysters. It was one of the captain's favorites, which instantly pinched him between hunger and curiosity. He set the lid back on the steaming terrine and looked at his wife with a slightly ravenous expression that begged for brevity.

Lady Yee simply pointed out that it was only natural for certain elements of society to express feelings of anxiety and trepidation with anything out of the ordinary, especially if they felt they might become liable at a later date for any mischief done. Lady Yee said that removing
the causes for fear and the justifications for concern from the equation had changed all the values. All the contrary elements lost their moral potency, or at the very least, the desire to impede that, which at its core, was a reasonable, charitable, and responsible endeavor, and worthy to exist for its own sake. With that, Lady Yee concluded by serving her husband his dinner. She said no more for the present. She knew that once the captain had taken the edge off his appetite, his curiosity would wander back of its own accord like a distracted puppy.

When the captain had eaten his fill, his wife launched into her explanation. She set aside her plate and leaned forward for emphasis. She told how she had sent their lawyer, Mr. Bishop, to see the mayor and the city fathers, primarily to assuage any fears they might have about the Chinese infirmary. Lady Yee acknowledged that anything novel or strange was always fertile ground for concern in a small town. The first thing everyone always wanted to know was how this or that would impact their own well-being. A bit selfish perhaps, but there were always those benighted souls who believed that being on one's guard against exotic influences was a responsibility they could ill afford to surrender to the general public. Of course these same people were also deeply concerned with the subject of public and private liability. Public funds were not to be imperiled, or even requested, if it came to that. Lady Yee went on to explain that she had, through the offices of J. W. Bishop, Esq., representing Hammond, Macy & Yee, assured those potential critics that the infirmary project was fully funded by private donation and established in a location that would hardly impact residential sensibilities. She had Mr. Bishop explain in detail that the health of the laboring Chinese had a substantial impact on the economics of the region, and since there were no public facilities willing to attend to these people, it was a matter of public interest and safety to take up the slack privately. All that was required of the city fathers was a permit to open the doors. They would not be solicited for any further assistance,
or any special considerations, and regular weekly reports would be made to the department of public health and sanitation concerning any outbreaks of communicable disease or unusual medical situations that would affect the public at large.

The captain said he believed his wife might have pressed the point a little too closely. The city's elected were jealous of their prerogatives, and usually dug in their heels when lectured about matters they were ill prepared to master by themselves. Their motto seemed to be “When in doubt, say no.” They usually cared more for their reelection than for public advancement, but that was true almost everywhere, which gave inactivity a kind of traditional basis to lean upon when called to account, if ever.

Lady Yee bowed her head and said she found their accommodations quite reasonable. Then she pulled an official city use permit out of her billowing sleeve and slid it across the table for her husband's inspection. He looked at the document and asked if she had been as successful with her own compatriots.

It was Lady Yee's opinion that the Chinese elders needed the same assurances, but she made a further accommodation that seemed to secure their majority support. She had promised to have Dr. Neruda and his family train appropriate candidates from each of the fishing villages in rudimentary health care and first aid. This was to include all midwives. Those applicants who proved talented and dedicated would be given more advanced medical training. In this way the general health of the villages could be monitored, and if the case required it, the patient could be moved to the infirmary for more intensive care. And in that regard, Lady Yee had instructed Mr. Bishop to purchase a used one-horse army ambulance from the Presidio, and then have it refurbished at Mr. Bentley's coachworks. In that way, Dr. Neruda could transport seriously ill patients to and from the infirmary without relying on the necessity of using hired transport.

It was Lady Yee's ability to engage and involve the village elders in matters relating to their own health that gave them the confidence to endorse her proposals. They felt from the beginning that Lady Yee was an ally in cultural and traditional matters, when in fact she knew precisely how to use such agendas as served her own goals, and bowed to the rest as so much cultural plumage. Such things served a purpose to be sure, but they also often served to justify inaction when imagination and ardor were lacking, and the captain knew that Lady Yee had little patience with inconvenient and superstitious impediments, nor could she abide those who claimed to know heaven's will from ancient magical sources.

Lady Yee had set about the whole enterprise with the intention of giving those very same venerable elders and tong masters credit for the whole idea. Since their social and political positions rested upon acquiring reputations for good works and civic responsibility, she saw no reason not to award them the recognition and acclaim. The captain knew well that public praise and appreciation meant virtually nothing to Lady Yee. By insisting others take the credit, and without incurring either expense or liability, she effectively dragooned them into becoming stewards of the enterprise whether they wanted to or not. Any attempt to hobble the welfare of the people now would be seen as traitorous to their offices. Lady Yee said that for women, getting men to do what was right and natural was easy, as long as you exalted them with praise and adulation for thinking of it first, and doing it so well. She reminded her husband of the ancient dictum that proclaimed that to be celebrated was to be made a tool of other people's expectations, and Lady Yee confessed that she much preferred the cloaked occupation of playwright and puppeteer. She said she had learned something from watching her father's mistakes. And she had determined that there was more power and influence to be gained from invisibility than from notoriety, no matter how well intentioned the endeavor. Jealousy, envy,
and even hatred always cruised back and forth liked sharks hunting in the wake of celebrated personages. And if that noteworthy person just happened to be a woman, then she stood the same chances of escaping with her reputation unscathed as a wounded tuna trailing blood in the foam. Lady Yee told her husband that she was convinced that in this matter, as in other aspects of life, navigating a safe and creative course between such culturally divergent interests and desires required management from the shadows. As far as she was concerned, the less her name was mentioned in connection with the venture, the better for everything all around. In that same vein, she had instructed that the infirmary be dedicated to the immortal mercies of Guan Yin, and titled appropriately with no other reference, no matter how modest and well meant, to herself. She smiled and said this also precluded any of the other godfathers from naming the infirmary to reflect their own sponsorship or participation. She had even forced them into a position of modesty as well. No one of right mind would dare suggest superior precedence over the goddess of mercy.

The captain let out a hearty laugh, slapped the table, and raised his wineglass to toast the “queen of the shadows.” Then he smiled sweetly and said it gave him great peace and satisfaction to know that Lady Yee was his wife and partner, and not his competition. To which Lady Yee replied that she was luckier than most Chinese women. She'd had the good fortune to marry for love, and in the bargain she acquired a husband who was enlightened enough to appreciate the fine art of accommodation. The captain was about to respond with equal sentiments of affection when the conversation was suddenly interrupted by Macy, once again narrowly escaping the clutches of Li-Lee, who came running into the dining room with her little arms outstretched to her father in supplication. It was a customary petition to be taken up in his arms and onto his lap. His arms were safe ground. And every time her father took her up, she would instantly look back to see if her pursuer
had been halted. Satisfied that all was well, she'd giggle and kiss her father on the cheek. It was his traditional reward for faithful service. She really loved this game, but it only reminded the captain that his little Macy was really her mother's daughter in almost every particular.

13

THE NEXT TWO WEEKS were rather hectic by normal standards. Lady Yee supervised almost every detail from her parlor or her gardens. She held conferences with Dr. Neruda and his wife about the purchase of all necessary medical supplies, surgical instruments, and medicines, as well as food, linen, laundry, and sanitation facilities.

Lady Yee and the Nerudas made out long, well-considered lists, and Mr. Bishop sent out reams of orders under the company letterhead. A Chinese cook and kitchen boys were hired under Ah Chu's expert supervision. A qualified stableman was employed to look after the carriage horses and ambulance mules, as well as the shay, the spring wagon, and the ambulance. He was to be paid extra for driving services. He too was given a young assistant to help with the heavy work, and a feed boy to portion out grain and hay to the animals, and make sure the water troughs were kept clean and full.

Lady Yee knew better than to involve her husband in the minutiae and made sure he was disturbed as little as possible. He had his own business matters to attend to, and they had been set aside for far too long. At the same time, something perplexing transpired that brought his attention back to the recently stranded ship and the fate of the crew. Mr. Campion had kept the captain informed about the vessel and her condition. The salvage company had successfully pulled the tub from
her snare, and after some patch repairs to her bottom, the steamer was deemed sound enough to be towed back to the harbor and anchored offshore until permanent repairs could be made. It was everyone's hope that they would be made soon. Everyone in town wanted to see the stern of that ugly old bark disappear over the horizon. She was considered bad luck all around, and the whole town wished she would continue her voyage to Vancouver as soon as possible. However, there were some inconvenient problems to address first, and not the least of these was the erstwhile captain of the ill-fated ship, Sigmund Malakoff. Malakoff was only held in custody for three days, which was the legal limit without a judge's order, but he was released with a stern warning not to leave the county, pending further investigations in which his testimony would most certainly be required. Malakoff's response to this new situation was typical of him; he snuck back aboard his old ship and rifled the contents of the ship's safe, to which he had the only key. Then he simply disappeared like morning fog.

The acting captain, Mr. Atwood, had not known where to find the key, but after consulting with the ship's purser and comparing paid cargo invoices, it was judged feasible that Malakoff could have easily absconded with as much as fifteen thousand dollars' worth of currency. Only a full audit would reveal the true scale of the loss, but the problem caused by the theft had far deeper consequences, for without the money to pay the crew, purchase coal, and provision the ship, much less pay a deposit on the salvage fees, the battered old freighter was going nowhere. The owners were contacted in Vancouver, but as yet they had done nothing to solve the situation.

And there was one other rather troublesome detail. As it turned out, even if the funds had been available, the men were all demanding to be paid off and released. They wanted nothing more to do with the ship, which they declared haunted by the ghost of their missing shipmate. They said they could even smell death belowdecks, and that
was a sure indication that the man's ghost was close at hand. Every tar worth his pint knew the omens and what they meant. They wouldn't sign on with that ship again, even for a bounty of twice their pay. At the same time, the beached crewmen were not about to allow a bunch of sea scabs to steam the vessel out of the bay until they had been paid off. They had even hired a local lawyer to file an injunction on their behalf. In any event, the whole business was fast becoming a tricky predicament for a good number of people. Between the ship's grounding and salvage, Malakoff's theft of the ship's funds, the inability of the owners to satisfy their responsibilities, and the protests of the crew for back pay and release, it was easy to see how this situation might get out of hand. All of this only clouded the fate of the poor passengers, who were pretty much left to their own devices since the ship's owners had become so unresponsive. Their care had fallen to lesser civic institutions and local church charities. But some survivors had tired of the waiting and general ineptitude, so they had found the money and means to continue their journey. All those that chose to depart did so voicing stern intentions to seek legal redress from the shipping company as soon as possible.