The resulting collision of legal and personal interests amounted to warrants being broadcast far and wide for one Sigmund Malakoff on charges of grand theft and escape to avoid arrest. The pitiful old freighter swung on a shallow anchor in the harbor, manned only by Mr. Atwood, the cook, and a Japanese cabin boy. The fate of penurious crewmen and passengers remained unresolved, and there was hot talk of applying to the courts to impound the vessel to satisfy the growing claims of debt, and in that regard, the salvage company and their lawyers would most certainly stand in first position, leaving the others to fend for themselves.
It fell to an exasperated Mr. Campion to call again upon Captain Hammond to assist in untangling the mess. The captain had gained a fair reputation as a gentleman who knew how to get things done. His wealth and striking reputation passed for qualifications in and of themselves, and complimentary stories had already spread about his astute handling of the survivors’ situation. Even though he was considered a relative newcomer to Monterey, the local gentry had begun to look up to him.
The first thing the captain did was to interview the crew about their complaints and objections, but he heard nothing he hadn’t already known from Mr. Campion. He already knew the status of the remaining passengers, at least those who remained behind due to a lack of funds to travel on. Before Malakoff had made off with the ship’s funds, Captain Hammond had hoped the company would authorize the use of some of that money to recompense and assist those people, but it now appeared that they were making themselves hard to find. This turn of events persuaded the captain that perhaps the beached crew had a reasonable point in seeking a legal injunction, which in a sense would place the vessel under arrest until such time as all debts were satisfied. If the owners failed to fulfill their legal responsibilities, then the ship and its cargo would be sold to the highest bidders to cover all debts so far incurred. Captain Hammond arranged for a meeting with the city’s attorney to discuss the legal ramifications of such a proposal.
In the meantime, Lady Yee moved her own project along at a marvelous pace, and all without ever leaving the comforts of her home, the company of her precocious daughter, and the beauty of her orchards and gardens. People came and went with messages and requests, and Lady Yee sent them on with her latest instructions. Captain Hammond likened it to Emperor Hadrian building his great wall across rain-swept England while pleasantly ensconced in sunny Rome. And by the standards of even the more affluent citizens of Monterey, Lady Yee was spending a fortune on her project. The cost of surgical instruments, medical apparatus, examination tables, hospital lamps, medical and hygienic supplies, and complex pharmaceutical compounds, not to mention a full stock of traditional Eastern medicinal herbs, would have financed a small farm, so to avoid public comment Lady Yee kept all her accounts and expenses secret. But even by her husband’s own estimation, Lady Yee could endow ten infirmaries a year, for the next ten years, and still not make an appreciable dent in her personal fortune, which kept growing exponentially under her astute supervision. She kept poor Mr. Bishop and his two legal clerks very busy doing business exclusively on her behalf. If indeed there was such a thing as a lawyer who truly earned his salt by the sweat of his brow, it was J. W. Bishop. He was driven to impart his best efforts, not just by his avowed admiration for his employer, or the generous retainer, but also by fear of failure. But in that regard he was not alone. Though moderately forbearing when it came to most human foibles and weaknesses, there was something about Lady Yee’s character that disdained all tolerance for failure in matters as mundane as business affairs. Life held enough disappointments that came unbidden; there was no reason to increase the negative prospects inherent in most business propositions by not planning ahead to adjust for most every eventuality.
The Guan Yin infirmary ceremonially opened its doors for the first time on the Saturday after Easter. Appreciating the Chinese tradition of appropriate dedication for anything of public or private value, Lady Yee arranged for a modest celebration to be held to mark the occasion. All the tong masters and village elders were invited to officiate, and Lady Yee paid for two Buddhist priests to come down from San Jose to crown the endeavor with their prayers and blessings. She even invited a renowned Confucian scholar to put his oar in the water. As arranged, he called for civic support to promote the general good. He reminded his audience that public dedication to the well-being of all souls was, in itself, a public virtue, and worthy in heaven’s eyes. And since some of the local Chinese had converted to Christianity, Lady Yee also arranged for Father Escobar from the mission to attend and add his blessings. Captain Hammond was sure that if his wife could have found any village fishermen of Jewish faith, she would have employed a rabbi as well.
Despite the fact that the dedication ceremony was a rather colorful and noisy affair, with cymbals and drums crashing in syncopation with minor fireworks, gongs, and prayers, very few Monterey citizens knew anything about what had transpired. The location of the infirmary, in what was generally a workshop and warehouse district on the north end of town near the railroad tracks, precluded a wider audience. In fact, aside from a few disinterested warehouse guards who were trying to nap, and a minor parade of curious junkyard dogs, the Chinese celebrants had the streets to themselves. Saturdays were always pretty quiet in that part of town, which was why Lady Yee had chosen the date specifically. Though to forestall any charges of impiety or oversight, she did authenticate her choice with the help of her very accommodating Taoist priest, who declared the date auspicious for some esoteric reason no one could really quite fathom. But it hardly mattered in the long run, as there was a bounty of food, music, sweetmeats, and rice wine to appease any and all celestial objections.
Perhaps the oddest detail concerning the dedication ceremonies was the fact that Lady Yee did not attend, nor did she encourage her husband to do so. She insisted that it was important to avoid being thought of as a patroness. Public gratitude on any scale, she said, was always a fickle and dangerous business. Instead she thought it best to encourage the Chinese of Monterey to think of the infirmary as their own by right, not as a gift from a wealthy compatriot. With proprietary interest nurtured among the people, buds of concern, support, and protection might be expected to bloom. Lady Yee fully expected the people to eventually come to understand the necessity for such an institution, and then prepare for the future of the infirmary on their own.
In lieu of her own presence, Lady Yee sent the Taoist priest to represent the infirmary and to introduce Dr. Neruda and his family in the most glowing tones possible. He was instructed to remind his peasant audience that, like the teachings of the venerable Buddha, the great principles and tenets of Chinese medicine came first from India, birthplace of all the true medical arts. The priest was to convey the fact that every enlightened Chinese emperor in history had insisted that his household maintain a retinue of learned physicians, pharmacists, and surgeons from India. And now the fishermen, laundrymen, and railroad coolies of Monterey were to be afforded that same luxury through the abiding blessings of Guan Yin.
Captain Hammond talked to Dr. Neruda at length after the ceremony. They shared a few glasses of sweet apple cider and toasted cheese in the gardens, and then they watched the sun set over the bay. It was evident from the doctor’s natural modesty that it had been a good thing he spoke no Chinese. The effusively gilded introduction that Lady Yee had composed for the priest would have caused him considerable embarrassment. Dr. Neruda expressed surprise at the enthusiastic response the priest’s introduction received and the warmth of the greetings he personally garnered as a result. The doctor almost blushed when recounting the gifts that poor people brought. Those who could afford it presented the infirmary with boxes of rice, or dried fruit, or crocks of anchovies preserved in oil. Some offered signed promises to deliver fresh fish every month, or so many pounds of crabs. Since the Neruda family were all vegetarians, and happiest with their own traditional cuisine, all these gifts would be used to feed the patients and the staff,
which now numbered six employees, four Chinese and two Filipinos. Lady Yee hired the Chinese women to be taught the skills of practical and surgical nurses and midwives, while Mrs. Neruda and her daughter were to train the two Filipino ladies as medicinal cooks. Learning the ayurvedic art of cooking for those suffering disease or injury was a priority, and the Nerudas placed much emphasis on diet and nutrition.
Thanks to Lady Yee’s foresight, two of the new staff happened to be male and female cousins named Yah-Joon. Both were born in Santa Cruz, attended school there, and spoke excellent English as well as Cantonese. Lady Yee hired them especially to act as medical translators as well as nurses. One of them would always be present at every interview and medical examination. It was hoped this would make the uncertain patients feel all the more comfortable and unafraid.
Of course, Mrs. Neruda would examine the female patients exclusively and then consult with her husband in his role as chief pathologist. This cultural adaptation went a long way toward convincing the local Chinese matrons that their modesty would remain unsullied. However, Mrs. Neruda would still find it necessary to resort to the use of Chinese patient dolls to help diagnose the older women. These dowagers were anchored to more ancient traditions, and were always accommodated respectfully as a result. It was Lady Yee’s conviction that these venerable grandmothers were the true power behind so many little thrones. If they were satisfied with the treatment they received, then they would press for others to seek treatment from the same source, especially where their grandchildren were concerned.
Lady Yee knew all this in advance, to be sure, and politely insisted that Dr. Neruda make every effort to see that his potential allies were not overlooked in any fashion. The doctor instantly smiled with appreciative agreement and nodded. And in that same vein, he modestly suggested that the infirmary make gifts of fruit to the older patients to help their digestion. Lady Yee thought this a marvelous idea, and from then on Dr. Neruda and Lady Yee seemed to be taking their text from the same pages. She said she was in a position to supply, when the harvest season dictated, a goodly crop from her own orchards, and the excess beyond personal use could be sold at market to purchase whatever foodstuffs or spices that were not readily available locally. She said her husband maintained excellent professional contacts with Chinese trading houses in San Francisco. She was convinced that he could easily acquire whatever esoteric goods the doctor might want. He need only submit a list of his requirements.
Dr. Neruda smiled, bowed, and introduced a rare note of levity. He said that if the Indian Army had been blessed with Lady Yee as a commanding general, the British Raj would have long since packed up and gone home to their cold, damp little island. Lady Yee caught the mood and responded with the observation that perhaps the British stayed in India primarily because they didn’t like their cold, damp clump of rock. That was the first time Lady Yee ever heard Dr. Neruda laugh. Happily, it wasn’t the last.
14
IN THE MEANWHILE, matters seemed to be arcing from bad to worse where the wounded freighter was concerned. The owners hadn’t attended to their responsibilities, and even Mr. Atwood, the acting captain, was now so angry that he threatened to take his two remaining men, cut the anchor cables, and abandon the ship. This action would, of course, legally allow the salvage company to rush in, secure the vessel, and claim sole salvage rights. In fact, Mr. Campion had heard a rumor that indicated the Mercury Pacific Salvage Company had already secretly offered Mr. Atwood, and the full crew, eight thousand dollars to do just that. Mr. Campion, who had read the ship’s manifest, believed her cargo of zinc and tin ingots, as well as the three thousand tanned hides and two hundred barrels of tallow, was worth at least five times the salvage offer. And then, of course, there was the market price for the ship, either afloat or as scrap, but either way there was a healthy profit to be had.
By way of personal depositions, Mr. Campion and Captain Hammond supported the claims of the crew and survivors, but the only way for Mr. Atwood and his two men to leave their posts was to have the vessel impounded by the courts to satisfy the debts. This also meant debts owed to the city for the support and housing of the survivors. If the salvage company got a chance to tow away the ship, no agency in American waters would ever see her afloat again. No one in Monterey really minded that eventuality as long as they got paid first. However, Mr. Campion and the crew were sure of one thing: The ship couldn’t possibly leave the bay under her own steam. The Mercury Pacific Salvage Company had conveniently off-loaded the freighter’s coal bunkers to lighten the ship before hauling her off the rocks. But with that chore came the added harvest of being able to fuel their own ship’s massive engines free of charge. Even when in port, these oceangoing salvage tugs consumed a handsome portion of coal just keeping their boilers warm enough to facilitate a speedy departure. The first tug to arrive on any given station was always given the contract. And somewhere out on the bay was a big, soot-black, oil-streaked salvage tug just waiting to pounce on the hapless old freighter. Captain Hammond likened it to being stalked by professional game hunters, and he too ascribed to the belief that without timely legal protection, the odds weren’t very appealing for anyone save perhaps the salvage company.
While the business of the ship’s disposition seemed to drag anchor, Lady Yee’s efforts were quickly rewarded. She had believed that it would most likely take a few months before the Chinese communities along the coast would take to using the infirmary with confidence, but Dr. Neruda was reporting full patient lists within ten days of the doors being opened.
The doctor was also pleased, and somewhat amused, to report that his wife, Nandiri, had become quite a favorite with the older Chinese patients. She often gave them especially fortified tinctures of ginseng root, gotu kola leaves, licorice root, and reishi mushroom caps. This simple concoction made the ancients as chipper as starlings because it regulated their systems and gave them sounder sleep and more endurance. And though compounding the tincture required expensive ingredients, and a complex series of steps that demanded exactitude and precision, the tonic was sold to the more elderly patients for a mere five cents per pint. Each bottle contained sixty daily doses, which made it the least expensive maintenance medication in any market, and far more effective than the patent medicines the people sometimes were encouraged to purchase by itinerant drummers with extravagant claims. Dr. Neruda also reported that three healthy babies had been born, a broken arm and a broken foot had been set, and an old fisherman with advanced pleurisy had suffered a minor heart attack but was resting comfortably in the infirmary. However, his prognosis was not very positive, and his relatives had been told to stay close at hand in case matters turned worse. The Nerudas had also treated two patients with allergic skin disorders, one fisherman who’d had a poisonous stingray barb driven deep into his calf, and a four-year-old boy who had suddenly shown signs of seizures with no apparent cause. Dr. Neruda was happy to report that all their patients, save one, were on the mend, and aside from a minor case of pneumonia, there had been no reports of any communicable illnesses from any of the fishing villages in the previous two weeks.
Mr. Campion, now totally frustrated by all the delays, sought to bring the matter to a head by petitioning the city attorney to seek an injunction that would effectively impound the ship until such time as the owners satisfied her debts. Whereas the beached crew and passengers were facing a drawn-out legal process hampered by a lack of funds, the city attorney and the harbormaster wielded influence that got the judge to sit up and take notice.
The process by which a ship was impounded was as old as maritime law itself. In one sense the ship was literally arrested by the authorities. A court officer, or a federal marshal, would go aboard the vessel in question and seize her registration papers, commissions, logs, cargo manifests, and flags of national origin. This last detail was purely ceremonial, since maritime tradition held that a ship without colors could not sign on a legal crew or leave port without the court’s release. Before departing t
he ship with the skeleton crew, the freighter would be thoroughly inspected, her cargo affirmed, and her holds sealed. A deputized guard would then be left on board, to be relieved every second day, and the harbormaster would see to it that the security of the anchorage and the ship’s cables were inspected regularly for drag or wear. The rest was up to the courts and maritime law.
Captain Hammond now felt himself well out of the picture and was quite content to be so. The whole business had taken up a great deal of his time and energy, and though he’d once visited Mr. Campion’s office for social reasons, he put the ship’s fate out of his mind and hoped that was the last of it. However, barely two days later, Captain Hammond received another urgent request from Mr. Campion. An unforeseen complication had arisen in the matter of the impounded ship, and Mr. Campion requested the privilege of an unofficial consultation.
As far as Captain Hammond was concerned, there appeared to exist some universal principle that determined no man should enjoy a full meal at home undisturbed by the outside world. This was affirmed by the fact that hand-delivered messages always seemed to arrive at mealtimes. However, this time the captain was determined not to be manipulated by circumstances and sent the doorkeeper away with the envelope until he called for it. As it turned out, the business was hardly time-sensitive.
Mr. Campion was somewhat distraught when the captain arrived. He motioned to be followed, then quickly closed his office door for privacy. With a voice tinged with exasperation, he sat his guest down with a glass of strong port and proceeded to tell Captain Hammond a very grizzly tale indeed.
The Silver Lotus Page 18
