The Sisters Brothers (12 page)

Part Three

HERMANN
KERMIT
WARM

Chapter 36

The harbor, at first sight, I did not understand it. There were so many ships at anchor that their masts looked to be tangled impossibly; hundreds of them packed together so densely as to give the appearance of a vast, limbless forest rolling on the tides. Charlie and I threaded our way up the shoreline, and all around us was chaos: Men of every race and age rushing, shouting, pushing, fighting; cows and sheep were directed this way and that; horse-led wagons carried lumber and bricks up the mud-slick hill, and the sound of hammering and building echoed from the city out to sea. There was laughter in the air, though it did not give me the impression of gaiety, but something more maniacal and evil wishing. Tub was nervous, and so was I. I had not seen anything remotely like it and I wondered how we might possibly find one man in these labyrinthine streets and alleyways, where all was queer and dark and hidden.

‘Let us search out Morris,’ I said.

‘He has already waited weeks for us,’ said Charlie. ‘Another hour won’t change anything.’ Of course my brother
liked
the atmosphere, and was not the least bit uneasy.

I saw that many of the ships seemed to have been at anchor a long while, despite their still being loaded down with cargo, and I asked a man walking past about this. He was barefoot and held a chicken under his arm, which throughout our conversation he stroked lovingly on the head.

‘Abandoned by their crews,’ he told us. ‘When the fever to dig is upon you, there is not a second to spare. Certainly one cannot be expected to unload crates of flour for a dollar a day with the rivers singing their song so nearby.’ Blinking at the horizon, he said, ‘I often look out at these boats and imagine their baffled investors, impotently raging in New York and Boston, and this pleases me. Can I ask, are you men just arriving in San Francisco? How are you finding it?’

‘I can only say I am eager to know it better,’ said Charlie.

The man said, ‘My feelings about San Francisco rise and fall with my moods. Or is it that the town alters my moods, thus informing my opinions? Either way, one day it is my true friend, a few days after, my bitterest enemy.’

‘What is your feeling this morning?’ I asked.

‘I am halfway between, just now. Altogether I am doing decently, thank you.’

Charlie said, ‘How is it that these vessels have not been looted?’

‘Oh, many have been. The ones that remain untouched are either guarded by their stubborn captains or else are filled with nonvaluable cargo. No one has any concerns for free wheat or cotton, just now. Or should I say, almost no one.’ He pointed to a lone man rowing a small boat in the bay, making his way between the tall ships. His skiff was ridiculously loaded down, and he dipped his oars with great caution so as to avoid tipping. ‘That there is a fellow called Smith. I know him well enough. What will he do when he gets to shore? He will strap those heavy boxes to his sickly mule’s neck and drag them up to Miller’s General Store. Miller will skin Smith on the price and the money Smith receives for his backbreaking work will be lost in a single round of cards, or it will scarcely buy him a meal. I wonder if you two have had the pleasure of dining in our fair city? But no, I would know if you had, for your faces would be bloodless, and you would be muttering ceaseless insults to God in heaven.’

Charlie said, ‘I paid twenty-five dollars for a whore in Mayfield.’

The man said, ‘You will pay that same amount to simply sit at the bar with them in San Francisco. To lie down with one, expect to put up a minimum of a hundred dollars.’

‘What man would pay that?’ I asked.

‘They are lining up to pay it. The whores are working fifteen-hour shifts and are said to make thousands of dollars per day. You must understand, gentlemen, that the tradition of thrift and sensible spending has vanished here. It simply does not exist anymore. For example, when I arrived this last time from working my claim I had a sizable sack of gold dust, and though I knew it was lunacy I decided to sit down and have a large dinner in the most expensive restaurant I could find. I had been living on the cold ground for three straight months, surviving on trout and pork fat and more trout. My spine was twisted from labor and I was utterly desperate for some type of warmth and pomp, a touch of velvet, and damn the cost. So it was that I ate a decent-sized, not particularly tasty meal of meat and spuds and ale and ice cream, and for this repast, which would have put me back perhaps half a dollar in my hometown, I paid the sum of thirty dollars in cash.’

Charlie was disgusted. ‘Only a moron would pay that.’

‘I agree,’ said the man. ‘One hundred percent I agree. And I am happy to welcome you to a town peopled in morons exclusively. Furthermore, I hope that
your
transformation to moron is not an unpleasant experience.’

Down the beach a half mile I noticed an enormous pulley system made of tall timbers and thick rope set back from the waterline; this was being used to run a steam-sailer ship aground. A man in a broad-brimmed black hat and tailored black suit was whipping a team of horses to turn the winch. I asked the chicken man about the purpose of this operation and he said, ‘Here is someone with the same ambition as Smith, but with brains as well. That man in the hat has claimed the abandoned boat as his own, and is having it dragged to a sliver of land he had the foresight to buy some time ago. He will shore the boat upright and lease out its quarters to boarders or shopkeepers and make himself a speedy fortune. A lesson for you men: Perhaps the money is not to be made in the rivers themselves, but from the men working them. There are too many variables in removing gold from the earth. You need courage, and luck, and the work ethic of a pack mule. Why bother, with so many others already at it, piling into town one on top of the other and in a great hurry to spend every last granule?’

‘Why do you not open a shop yourself?’ I asked.

The question surprised him, and he took a moment to consider what the answer might be. When it came to him, a sadness appeared in his eyes and he shook his head. ‘I’m afraid my role in all this is settled,’ he said.

I was going to ask which role he was referring to when I heard a noise on the wind, a muffled crunching or cracking in the distance, followed by a whistling sound cutting through the thick ocean air. One of the pulley ropes had snapped, and I saw the man in the black suit standing over a horse lying on its side in the sand. That he was not whipping the horse informed me it was dying or dead.

‘It is a wild time here, is it not?’ I said to the man.

‘It is wild. I fear it has ruined my character. It has certainly ruined the characters of others.’ He nodded, as though answering himself. ‘Yes, it has ruined me.’

‘How are you ruined?’ I asked.

‘How am I not?’ he wondered.

‘Couldn’t you return to your home to start over?’

He shook his head. ‘Yesterday I saw a man leap from the roof of the Orient Hotel, laughing all the way to the ground, upon which he fairly exploded. He was drunk they say, but I had seen him sober shortly before this. There is a feeling here, which if it gets you, will envenom your very center. It is a madness of possibilities. That leaping man’s final act was the embodiment of the collective mind of San Francisco. I understood it completely. I had a strong desire to applaud, if you want to know the truth.’

‘I don’t understand the purpose of this story,’ I said.

‘I could leave here and return to my hometown, but I would not return as the person I was when I left,’ he explained. ‘I would not recognize anyone. And no one would recognize me.’ Turning to watch the town, he petted his fowl and chuckled. A single pistol shot was heard in the distance; hoofbeats; a woman’s scream, which turned to cackling laughter. ‘A great, greedy heart!’ he said, and then walked toward it, disappearing into it. Down the beach, the man with the whip stood away from the dead horse, staring out at the bay and the numberless masts. He had removed his hat. He was unsure, and I did not envy him.

Chapter 37

We knocked on Morris’s door at the hotel but he did not answer. Charlie picked the lock and we entered, finding his many toilet items, his perfumes and waxes, stacked on the floor next to the entrance. But besides this there was no sign of the man, no clothing or baggage, and the bed was made, the windows all shut tight; I had the feeling Morris had been away several days. His absence struck Charlie and I as conspicuous bordering on unnerving, for while it was true we were tardy in arriving, Morris’s instruction was to wait for us no matter the length of time, and it was out of character for him to stray from any prearrangement. When I suggested we might check to see if he had left word for us with the hotel proprietors, Charlie encouraged me to investigate. I was stepping toward the door when I noticed a large black horn emerging from the wall beside the bed. Hanging within was a polished brass bell. Below the horn there hung a sign that read:
RING BELL TONGUE. SPEAK FOR SERVICE.
I followed the instruction and the bell tone filled the room. This startled Charlie; he craned his neck to watch. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I have heard of this system in eastern hotels.’

‘Heard of what system?’

‘Just wait.’ A moment passed and a woman’s voice, shrunken and distant, emanated from the stomach of the building.

‘Hello? Mr. Morris?’

Charlie turned all the way around. ‘She is in the wall? Where is it coming from?’

‘Hello?’ the voice repeated. ‘Did you ring for service?’

‘Say something,’ Charlie told me. But I felt inexplicably bashful, and motioned for him to speak. He called over, ‘Can you hear me in there?’

‘I can hear you faintly. Please speak into the horn directly.’

Charlie was enjoying this, and he stood up from the bed and approached the device, putting his face fully into the horn. ‘How is that? Better?’

‘That’s better,’ said the voice. ‘What can I do for you today, Mr. Morris? I am relieved to have you back. We were worried when you went away with that strange little bearded man.’ Charlie and I shared a look at this. Readdressing the horn, he said, ‘This is not Morris, ma’am. I have come from the Oregon Territory to visit with him. He and I are employed by the same firm there.’

The voice paused. ‘And where is Mr. Morris?’

‘That I do not know.’

‘We only just arrived,’ I said, impelled to take part.

‘Who was that?’ said the voice.

‘That is my brother,’ said Charlie.

‘So there are two of you, now.’

‘There was always two of us,’ I told her. ‘Since the day I was born there was.’ Neither Charlie nor the woman recognized my joke, and it was in fact as though it had never existed. The voice adopted a peevish tone: ‘Who gave you men permission to enter Mr. Morris’s room?’

‘The door was unlocked,’ Charlie lied.

‘So what if it was? You cannot simply enter another man’s rented quarters and speak into his wall piece.’

‘You have our apologies for that, ma’am. We were to rendezvous here some days ago, only our travels were delayed. As such, we were in a hurry to visit with Morris, and threw caution to the wind.’

‘He made no mention of any rendezvous.’

‘He wouldn’t have.’

‘Hmm,’ said the voice.

Charlie continued: ‘You say he has left with a bearded man. Was this person called Warm? Hermann Warm?’

‘I never asked the man’s name, and he never offered to share it with me.’

‘What color was his beard?’ I asked.

‘Is that the brother again?’

‘Was it a red beard?’ I asked.

‘It was red.’

‘How long has Morris been away?’ said Charlie.

‘Four days today. He paid up until tomorrow morning. When he said he was leaving early I offered him a partial refund but he would not take it. A gentleman, that one.’

‘And he left no word for us?’

‘He did not.’

‘Did he say where he was going?’

‘To the Illuminated River, he told me. He and the red-bearded man had a laugh about it. I do not know why.’

‘You are saying they were laughing together?’

‘They were laughing at the same time. I assumed they were laughing at the same thing. I searched for the river on a map but couldn’t find it.’

‘And Mr. Morris did not appear to be under duress? As though his departure was forced, for example?’

‘It did not seem so.’

Charlie studied this. He said, ‘The friendship is a curiosity to me.’

‘To me, also,’ the voice agreed. ‘I’d thought Mr. Morris didn’t like the man, then all at once they became inseparable, spending every minute together locked away in that room.’

‘And you are certain he left no instruction for us?’

‘I think I would know if he had,’ she answered haughtily.

‘He left nothing behind at all then?’

‘I did not say that.’

Charlie glared into the horn. ‘Ma’am, tell me what he left, if you please.’

I could hear the woman breathing. ‘A book,’ she said finally.

‘What kind of book?’

‘A book he wrote in.’

‘What did he write in the book?’

‘I don’t know. And if I did know, I would not tell you.’

‘Personal writing, is that it?’

‘That’s right. Naturally, just as soon as I understood what it was I closed it up.’

‘What did you learn from your reading?’

‘That the weather was not favorable at the start of his trip to San Francisco. I am embarrassed to have learned that much. I respect the privacy of my lodgers.’

‘Yes.’

‘My lodgers can expect from me the most absolute kind of privacy.’

‘I understand. Can I ask you, where is the book now?’

‘It is with me, in my room.’

‘I would like very much if you would show it to us.’

She paused. ‘That I should not do, I don’t think.’

‘I tell you we are his friends.’

‘Then why did he not leave word for you?’

‘Perhaps he left the book for us.’

‘He forgot the book. I found it tangled in sheets at the foot of his bed. No, he was in a rush to pack and go, always looking over his shoulder. For all I know it was you two he wished to stay ahead of.’

‘You will not show me the book then, is that correct?’

‘I will do right by my guests, is what I will do.’

‘Very well,’ Charlie said. ‘Will you bring us up lunch with ale?’

‘You are staying on with us?’

‘For one night, anyway. This room will do fine.’

‘What if Mr. Morris comes back?’

‘If he left with Warm, as you say, he will not be coming back.’

‘But if he does?’

‘Then you will make a nice profit in champagne, for it will be a happy reunion indeed.’

‘Do you want a hot lunch or cold?’

‘Hot lunch, with ale.’

‘Two full hot lunches?’

‘With ale.’

The woman signed off, and Charlie returned to lie on the bed. I asked him what he made of the situation and he said, ‘I don’t know
what
to make of it. We will need to get a look at the book, of course.’

‘I don’t believe the woman will share it.’

‘We will see about that,’ he said.

I opened a window and leaned out into the salty air. The hotel was located on a steep incline and I watched a group of Chinese men, in their braids and silk and muddy slippers, pushing an ox up the hill. The ox did not want to go, and they slapped its backside with their hands. Their language was something like a chorus of birds, completely alien and strange, but beautiful for its strangeness. Likely they were only cursing. There came a knock at the door and the stout, lipless hotel woman entered with our lunches, which were tepid, if not actually hot. The ale was cool and delicious and I drank half of it in a single pass. I asked the woman what I had spent with this long sip and she scrutinized the glass. ‘Three dollars,’ she estimated. ‘Both meals together are seventeen.’ It seemed she hoped to be paid at once, and Charlie stood and handed her a double eagle; when she began fishing the change from her pocket, he caught her wrist, telling her to keep it as payment for our rudeness in entering Morris’s room without permission. She kept the money but did not thank him and in fact appeared displeased to be receiving it. When Charlie produced a second double eagle and held this in her direction, her face grew hard.

‘What’s this?’ she asked.

‘For the book.’

‘I have already told you, you cannot have it.’

‘Of course, ma’am, you would keep it; we only wish to look it over awhile.’

‘You will never lay eyes upon it,’ she said. Her hands were red and balled and she was thoroughly insulted. She stomped from the room, in a hurry I suspected to tell some or all of her employees of this latest moral victory, and Charlie and I sat together to eat our lunch. I became sorrowful at the thought of this woman’s fate; to my concerned expression he told me, ‘You can’t say I didn’t try with her,’ and I had to admit it was the truth. The food, I might mention, was unremarkable in every way other than its cost. When the woman returned to collect our plates, Charlie stood to meet her. Her head was high, her expression superior, and she said, ‘Well?’ Charlie did not answer, but dropped to a crouch and buried his fist in her stomach, after which she fell back onto a chair and sat bent over, drooling and coughing and generally struggling to regain her breath and composure. I brought her a glass of water, apologizing and explaining that our need of the book was no trifling matter, and that one way or the other we would have it. Charlie added, ‘We hope no more harm will come to you, ma’am. But understand we will do whatever it takes to get it.’ She was in such a state of muted outrage I did not think she heard the logic in our words, but when I escorted her to her room, she handed over the journal all the same, and without any further episode. I insisted she take the extra double eagle and in the end she did take it, which I like to think lessened the indignity of her catching such a terrific punch, but I do not suppose it did, at least not so very much. Neither Charlie nor I was predisposed to this manner of violence against a physical inferior—‘yellow violence’ some would call it—but it was a warranted necessity, as will be shown in the proceeding pages.

What follows is a verbatim transcription of all pertinent sections of the journal of Henry Morris, as related to his mysterious partnership with Hermann Kermit Warm and the defection from his post as the Commodore’s scout and longtime confidant.