by Paul Yee
When I gave him the page from my notebook, he yelled, “I won’t pay 4 cash! You used a pencil!”
He argued that someone could erase my words and change his meaning. He wanted a letter in ink. I told him no one can make changes and get away with it. It is absolutely impossible. Besides, who can do brushwork while riding these waves? We argued until I settled on 2 cash. He walked away grinning. I really am Rock Brain!
April 4
I strolled around and banged on my writing box with a stick, shouting I would write letters, 4 cash per page.
Ba slapped my head, hard. “What do you think we are?” he shouted. “Beggars? Anyone who hires this boy will have to deal with me!”
When no customers came forward, I wanted to tell the crowd how Ba had pledged away my wages. But I did no such thing. Our family name is one of the best.
Now I can go back to sleeping. I nap all day and all night. Why not? In the dark here, no one can tell time. I am forever tired, no matter how much I sleep.
April 6
At mealtime, a man hurled his soggy rice and dried fish at the Red Beard sailor. He shouted that we deserved better food. Men yelled support, banging on their bunks and stomping their feet. The Company man came down and called for quiet. Passengers lobbed food and foul names at him. We laughed when he clambered up the ladder as fast as he could go.
At first, we ate beans, cabbage and melons in the soupy rice along with pork. It tasted so bad that people said the cooks were not Chinese. Then the kitchen used up the pigs and greens. We got dried vegetables and dried shrimp, tidbits lost in the soggy rice. The cooks soaked them in salt water. Everyone got thirsty. There was never enough drinking water.
April 8
Today, I asked Wong why he had written the letter so early.
He felt guilty for leaving his family, especially at New Year. He could not sleep, so he wanted to get his worries out of his head and onto paper. He said, “Can I ask you a question?”
Not another letter, I thought, not for 2 cash.
He said, “Was I right to disobey my father and go to work on the iron road?”
Luckily, I had just filled my mouth with rice, so I chewed slowly. The best way to make a father happy? Do exactly what he says. Or do what you think is best. Who knows? I glanced at Wong, and saw how sad he looked. So I told him a story instead:
A little boy wants to work in the family store. The father says he is too weak. The boy runs to the warehouse and grabs a small rice sack in each hand. He thrusts his arms out and stands in the shape of a cross all afternoon. Next day, he takes a larger rice sack in each hand and stands the same way. The following day, he does the same thing with two even larger rice sacks. He calls his father to come see his strength.
“My, my,” says his father. “Now, how about putting some rice into those sacks?”
April 11
I lit my candle and opened my journal. Ba said, “Pencils cost money. Don’t write useless things.”
I got angry and forgot what to record. Ba has no idea what I put down here. Today I think about the men on this ship.
Song-Flower wanders about singing Cantonese opera. He does both men’s and women’s voices. People shout to him to sing such-and-such a tune, but he never responds.
One man steals light from the gamblers to read. They insult him.
“Scholar, you’ll go blind squinting at words!”
“Scholar, aren’t you afraid to dirty your hands in Gold Mountain?”
“Books are useless, Scholar. Better tie them around your legs to keep warm.”
Every now and then, Scholar settles into horse position and stands braced for hours, getting strong for the work ahead.
Stir-the-Pot keeps shouting at the sailors about the terrible food.
Two brothers go everywhere together. When one uses the toilet, the other waits outside for him. When one gambles, the other stands behind to guard him. They sleep on the floor, not in bunk beds. They rarely speak, so no one knows their surname.
Men gather around Miner. He lives alone in the wilderness of Gold Mountain and follows the smell of gold wherever it takes him. He says the rivers are cold but full of fast-moving fish. When rumours of new gold are heard, a lonely mountainside suddenly teems like an anthill with gold-seekers. Each day tests his brains and muscles. He has no fear of Red Beard Ghosts. He said we should take care when we are near them, but otherwise there is no need to be scared. I feel better hearing that.
Someone asks if it is true that men die of cold in Gold Mountain. He nods.
Maybe I should follow Miner. But Meng-ping’s father said the gold is all gone.
April 13
Ba asked me for money. I handed him the coin he had tossed onto the floor.
“More,” he said.
He took my eighteen coins without saying a word.
I hate it when he treats me like a servant.
April 14
Last night Ba did not come back. I pray he is having a run of good luck.
April 15
Again, Ba did not use his bed. It is two nights in a row. I cannot sleep. Ba claims to be clever enough to win at any game. If only I could believe him! He has always worked far from home. No-one in town ever built a new house from gambling success. Old Choi down the lane won a fortune and bragged about moving to the capital, but then he lost everything in another game. Ma bought a set of new dishes from Old Choi’s wife when she was selling her goods in order to pay rent.
The problem isn’t about winning; it’s about keeping the winnings. If Ba let me guard his winnings, then we could easily regain our wages.
April 16
Someone died today. How could that happen?
We were all inspected in Hong Kong before we boarded this ship. A Red Beard doctor peered into our eyes, checked our tongues and listened to our pulse. He dismissed a few men, who left unhappily. We took off our clothes and Company men shot snakes of forceful water at us.
The Company man searched the dead man’s belongings, looking for a name. He found nothing and called out, “Did anyone talk to him?”
No-one replied.
“Speak up!” shouted the Company man. “He must have talked to someone!”
Finally Sell-Ginger said, “His surname was Ong. He’s from Chek-Hom.”
The Company man needed help to roll the body into a blanket. No one moved. That was when I felt the cold in my hands. Back home, we saw bodies in the river and dead beggars on the street. We poked at them with sticks. Corpses never bothered me. Until now.
April 17
Pranksters whistled and made ghostly noises last night, trying to frighten people. Others shouted at them to be quiet and show respect for the dead.
Old Ong’s bottom bunk was empty, but people were too scared to take it. Ba asked if I wanted it, but I shook my head.
Poy Uncle muttered that Old Ong should have died earlier, before we got so close to Gold Mountain. Now Old Ong’s ghost would follow us ashore.
No one knows the cause of death. Some people blame the Company: not enough fresh air and clean water. Others say if that was true, then more men would have died. They say Ong was sick and had no idea how to care for himself.
April 18
Fights broke out. Scholar was standing quietly in horse position when someone flung a bowl of water into his face.
“This horse looks thirsty!” said the man. “This horse stinks!”
Scholar’s hand and foot lashed out and the man landed on the floor. He leapt up and charged, yelling like a crazy man. Scholar blocked his arm, and punched his stomach. The man fell down, clutching himself. When he crept away, Scholar was back in horse position.
Then two men fought in the lineup for the toilet. One man accused another of stepping ahead of him, while the latter claimed the first man had gone away to talk to a friend. These men knew nothing about fighting; other passengers easily pulled them apart.
April 19
On the third day after, people light incense and
candles at Old Ong’s bed.
People say no-one knew Old Ong was sick. He never complained. They thought if he chewed ginger and slept, then he would get better, like everyone else.
Ba took me to pay respects. Just as we arrived, Sell-Ginger banged the wooden bed and shouted, “Return to China, all of you! You’re too sickly to build an iron road. Look, one of you just died. How will you worms survive? Do you want to die?”
“We signed contracts,” someone shouted. “We ate the ship’s food. We owe money. We have to work!”
“Your lives are more important,” Sell-Ginger pleaded. “Run and hide when the ship pulls into the docks.”
If he is so scared, someone says, then he should stay home.
“We built the Great Wall,” Ba said quietly. “Of course we can do this job.”
“I came to warn you,” Sell-Ginger explained. “My son died on the iron road. Please, spare your loved ones this grief.”
“All of us, we have lost family to Gold Mountain,” replied Ba. “We know the risks. Leave us alone.”
After Sell-Ginger left, men crowded around Ba to praise him. My friend Wong was among them. He raised his thumb at me. I have never heard Ba speak so well.
April 21
I changed my mind and will not return to China right away, panting like a drowning rat. Little Brother will look down at me. The townspeople will point to me and call me a coward. They will say I feared hard work, feared the Red Beards. They will treat me like a corpse.
I tell myself this: helping to repay Ba’s debts is the same as helping Grandfather regain his store. If Ba wins back our wages, I want my account to hold a respectable amount of earnings.
April 23
Poy Uncle announces that land is nearing. Each day feels a little cooler than before. Some passengers have started packing. They annoy the lazy ones, who call out, “What’s the rush? Can’t wait to become a slave?”
Poy Uncle said that this is the most dangerous part of a voyage. Sailors cannot see the rocks below the water, especially at night.
I think no place is safe, except for home.
April 24
Last night, our blankets were missing. Ba would not answer me when I asked where they were. I knew right away he had sold them to get gambling money. Now we will freeze to death in Gold Mountain.
April 25
Yesterday Ba sold his padded jacket. Good thing the voyage is almost over. Otherwise, Ba might sell his pants and really make a fool of himself.
April 26
Ba asked if I was going home.
I said no.
He almost smiled. “Glad to hear that,” he said. “Otherwise, I would have beaten you until you were lame. And Grandfather would have thanked me.”
I made the right decision. I’m a genius!
April 27, Victoria, British Columbia
I give up. The whole world can call me Rock Brain now.
When the ship docked, men surged to the ladders, desperate for daylight and fresh air. We shouted and banged on the hatches. No sailors came. We heard footsteps above, and heavy things were dragged over the ceiling. No doubt we would be last to leave.
One hatch creaked open. Men rushed from the other ladders and pressed in so urgently that I thought someone would get trampled to death. The Company man, a fellow named Leung, brought helpers and shouted at us to form groups of thirty.
“Find people of the same surname, or from your village area,” he advised. “That way you won’t fight so much.”
We rushed to get our luggage. I followed Ba into a group, mostly his gambling friends. Then we waited. And waited. I climbed up a bunk for a look. The gangs were trickling by two tables at the foot of the ladder. A clerk recorded each man’s name and home village. Those who had schooling insisted on the correct words. But the clerks refused to make corrections.
We were crushed together, twisting toward the tables, fighting to breathe. We cursed the Company. Every now and then, a name sailed back from the front. Someone at the rear cried out and started pushing forward. We were packed so tightly that skinny men dropped to their hands and knees, and crawled through people’s legs, dragging their bundles behind them. The Company man shouted “Move back!” but no one did.
Then I recalled one pencil was still at my bunk, tucked between the boards for nighttime writing. I pushed through the crowd toward the beds. It was like a beggar trying to reach a rich man’s door. I wanted to jump up and sprint over people’s heads. After finding my pencil, I faced a solid wall of men’s backs. Then I heard my name being called.
“That’s me!” I shouted. “Let me through!”
With a running start, I threw myself into the crowd. People shoved back, cursing. Every step was a battle. “They’re calling me!” I screamed, “My people are leaving! Let me pass!”
At every step, I groped for my backpack. I wormed through the throng, inch by painful inch. I saw the ladder and the open hatch get closer. Then a flash of news crackled through the crowd. The people melted away and I quickly slid forward. But the hatch was closed and our hold was black again.
“Where are the Company people?” I shouted.
“Boat’s full,” grunted a voice in the shadows, “so we go tomorrow.”
I flew up and banged at the hatch. “I need to get off! I got left behind!”
No one heard me. I dropped to the floor, shaken. Ba will be furious, I thought. And what if Ba thinks I stayed behind on purpose?
He will disown me.
April 28, New Westminster, British Columbia
What a big scare this afternoon! My body went so cold I thought I was dying.
I carried my baggage ashore and followed some men to a boat. Then more men came off our ship. But they headed to another pier, to another berth. Two boats?
I sprinted back to the ship and shouted at the Company man, “Yesterday’s boat, where did it go?”
“Yale.”
“Are today’s boats going there?” I demanded.
“Only one.”
“Which one?”
“The paddlewheeler.”
I calmed down, feeling like a stupid chicken. I was glad to see Wong Brother on my boat. He told me not to worry about Ba; the Chinese company is well organized and it would be easy to find him.
We sailed through rocky islands and sometimes swung so close to land that men at the railing shouted in alarm. Did the captain understand Chinese? But he reversed the paddlewheel just in time and avoided the deadly rocks.
The cold winds made me shiver. The islands were nothing but cliffs and forests. Big slug-like animals lay on the rocky beach of one island. Their tiny heads had no ears, their fat round bodies had no legs, and their arms were short flaps. They weren’t fish, but they weren’t land animals either. How strange!
At the mouth of the river, its muddy current poured into the clear ocean. The shores were thick with trees, but many paths led to the water and to long boats carved from big trees. The local people had built big houses from planks of wood. Tall poles carved with animal shapes stood near those homes.
Then the water took on a different life. The river spurted by, sweeping entire trees along, bouncing them to and fro like twigs. The captain steered with care so that the trees did not swing in and plug the paddlewheel. We fought the strong current while bitter black smoke billowed from the steamer’s smokestack. What fishes could survive such wild waters?
When we stopped, I asked to go ashore to look for Ba. The new Company man said yesterday’s boat had not left anyone behind. Besides, this was not Yale. He blew smoke from his cigar into my face, as if I were a servant.
The town sits on a hill with many buildings. Some roofs rise to a steep point; others are flat. A road runs to the top of the hill, to a very large building. Is it a temple?
A Company guard stopped us from going ashore. Instead, hot food was brought aboard: great pots of rice and smaller pots of meat and pickled greens. I filled my bowl four times! Finally, a meal with properly cooked rice!
Wong Brother sent over two men who asked me to write letters. They want their families to know we have arrived safely. Ba should be writing to Ma and Grandfather.
I write until the boss of the gamblers curses me for stealing light from his lantern. More men want to join the game, and I block the way.
April 29, Fort Hope, British Columbia
I have given up chasing Ba. I am cold with fear at being lost, alone and left behind. Am I a bad son?
I would be stupid to chase a man who cannot be caught now. The Company knows where every worker is. Otherwise, how would letters from China get forwarded to the right people? With so many new workers arriving all at once, the Company man says it is impossible to track down one man right away – it takes time.
I am facing the tallest, biggest mountains that I have ever seen. Their sides are straight and smooth as walls. The hills at home are mere bumps by comparison. How can we build an iron road over such a barrier?
A small boat will take me to a work site. The travel is finished; the idleness must end. Now I must work and prove myself. I must not give in to fear.
