by Paul Yee
The past days warmed up like summer but rain came along. Tiger Face complains he purchased too much warm clothing.
November 5
It snowed last night. The trees and mountains have the same shapes as before but now they are a different colour. All looks peaceful, which is deceiving. Our explosions are dark clouds of dust. Our boots turn the snow black.
Men discuss plans for the winter. Ba said nothing. Will we go home to China? Or head south to town?
Poy Uncle will stay here. At first I thought I misheard. The cooking tent is left behind so Poy Uncle will move there. Firewood and coal from the Company store will keep him warm. He will buy food and cook his own. Others are pooling funds to join him. “Cheaper than sailing to China,” he brags, “and cheaper than going to town. Landlords raise their rents because workers have nowhere to go.”
Later, Ba told me to help Poy Uncle fix the cooking tent and fetch supplies. Ba has put money into the pool for me. I will stay here while he goes south. He asked me if I was scared.
“No,” I lied. “What’s there to fear here?” Then I blurted, “Don’t you think I should go home? Ma and Little Brother need protection.”
Ba retorted, “We need every penny for Grandfather.”
“Our wages are gone,” I snapped, “and you’ll gamble all winter.”
“It’s the only way to get the money we need,” Ba insisted.
I took a deep breath and demanded that he hand over the money whenever he won. I would keep it safe from being lost in another game. Ba looked at me if I had gone crazy.
“You win money and then you lose it,” I cried out. “I just want Grandfather to get back his store!”
“Don’t you think I want the same thing?” snapped Ba.
“You won enough money!” I pointed out. “Poy Uncle told me!”
“Poy Uncle doesn’t know a thing! He can’t count!”
November 6
After terrible cold, it is warm again. Our padded jackets and extra blankets eat up too much space in the tent.
November 8
The warning whistle sent us running. After the blast came the all-clear signal. The whistle kept going.
We had broken through the foot of the mountain, we had cut our way out of the cut! Blind Eye and I climbed to look through the breach. We seemed high up. I saw thick forests, more rocks and more mountains, and a stream running by. I had seen it before, while looking for a fishing spot.
We kept working. Why lose half a day’s wages? The Red Beards crossed the stream to the next mountain. Our work sped up as we dumped our baskets over the breach instead of climbing to the river’s edge.
November 9
No Red Beards worked today. National holiday, Bookman said, to thank God for a rich harvest. Saltwater Crisp called out, “Do we get a day to thank Queen of Heaven for bringing us here safely?”
“Are you still praying?” Tofu Boy laughed. “No god protects us! Home is too far away.”
In the middle of the day, Nlaka’pamux men strode through the breach. They watched us work, shaking their heads as if they felt sorry for us. Bookman fetched Crew Boss, who shouted at the visitors.
Some wore Western clothes and boots, but others had animal-skin hats and long shirts sewn with beads and fringes. The tallest man was wrapped in a coat that fell to his knees. Shiny animal fur showed on the collar and inside, while fringes thick as strings of brown-wrapped firecracker dangled from the sleeves. They carried heavy poles. Were these weapons? They spoke forcefully. Crew Boss and Bookman went away with them.
Later, Bookman told us to be careful at the stream. Debris was blocking it. The Nlaka’pamux people said fish could not get upstream to give birth. Crew Boss assured them the iron road would run on a bridge over the stream. They wanted the debris cleared and the stream restored, so we moved the rubble a second time.
November 10
A horrible death marred our start at the next mountain. After the warning whistle, we scattered to safety. But the explosion came far too soon. Rocks hurtled out and hit several men. Worst of all, a sharp flat rock spun through the air and cut off Puppy’s head. I did not think I could write this, but I have.
At first no one noticed. Then I heard people retching and wailing. Ba seized a pole and ran after Crew Boss. I grabbed a rock and followed. Crew Boss turned and fled. Stupidly, he ran to the river, where rocks blocked his path. He couldn’t get back up because our crew had rallied behind Ba. Everyone shouted and cursed. Blind Eye wailed like an old woman at a funeral. Crew Boss ran into the water. We hurled rocks at him. Ba and I chased him, but the water was icy. Let him soak in the water, we thought, so we stood and watched him. Cook came running with his rifle, and fired into the air. Crew Boss dared not come to shore. Finally, Red Beards rowed out a boat, picked him up, and took him across the river.
November 12
I went with Poy Uncle and Thunder God to get winter supplies: mostly firewood. I had hoped a passing boat might help us. No such luck. At the store, a letter had arrived for Puppy. We took it back to camp, but no one opened it. Bookman told me to write to Puppy’s family. There is no pay for such letters.
November 16
I have not written to Puppy’s family. I wanted to ask Ba what he wrote in his letter to Woo Uncle’s family, but then Ba would call me Rock Brain again.
I doubt there is anything I can do that would make Ba respect me. I saw Poy Uncle shake his head and say to Ba, “You still think we all should die here? You still think Red Beards respect us for dying on the job?”
Ba looked down without speaking. These days, he looks sadder than when I first joined this crew.
November 19
Thunder God, Old Fire, Blind Eye and I went to town and brought back sacks of coal for winter. To keep them dry, we covered them with sheets of heavy canvas. We made the tent stronger by tying more ropes from the corners of the tent to pegs pounded into the ground. Now everyone must be careful not to trip over them. We had to work fast, because the sky gets dark earlier and earlier each day.
Rain has fallen during each of the five past weeks. Wet clothes will not dry, so we all stink. I wrote a letter to Puppy’s family. It made me sick.
November 21
Payday. Ba claimed Puppy owed him money but Bookman said Puppy still owed money to the Company.
I was surprised not to lose pay for the time used for the deaths of Woo Uncle and Puppy. I asked Bookman if this rule held for all workers under the Company’s rule. He shook his head and said, “I told Crew Boss the ghosts of the dead Chinese will haunt him if he is not generous.”
November 22
Red Beards and Chinese are heading south. Some trek on the iron road path, others ride boats on the river. It was colder upriver, Bookman said. But this site was warmer, so we would work to the next payday. “When it gets cold,” he added, “Cook makes hot tea at the cut.”
Ten men left. At departure, Little Snake urged Ba to go south with them to avoid freezing to death. When Ba said he had to stay and look after me, Little Snake told him to bring me south too, because I would never survive winter up here.
Oh yes I will, I thought. I’ll show Ba that I’m up to any task.
November 25
Our two crews work under one boss now.
My carrying-pole snapped and spilled everything. Poy Uncle said that when moisture freezes inside the wood, the ice breaks the bamboo fibres. Now everyone tests their carrying-poles before work.
November 26
Rain and cold caused more people to head south. Tiger Face decided to stay, so that makes seven men. Good thing the cooking tent is bigger than our tents. We looked for trees and branches to put on the floor to lift our beds off the cold ground. But during the night, the tree trunks will roll away, and so your neighbour curses you, or you wake up with a sore back next morning.
November 27
Mid-morning, Tiger Face and I went to get tea. Cook said, “No more.”
He pointed to his fire, where a big pot
perched on blackened rocks. The fire was out.
“Crew Boss doused it,” Cook said.
Tiger Face and I squatted and thrust our fingers under the pot. The rocks were still hot so we pressed their warmth to our necks and cheeks. Saltwater Crisp and Ox Uncle came by. We passed them the hot rocks. Turning around, I saw our entire crew squatting there, waiting for the hot rocks. It was a relief to get warm, even for a second.
Crew Boss and Bookman ran up.
“Get back to work!” shouted Bookman.
“You said we would have hot tea,” Tofu Boy reminded him. Ox Uncle and others echoed him: “We want hot tea!”
We stayed firm and shouted, “No tea, no work! No tea, no work!”
Crew Boss cursed Bookman, who swore back. Finally, Crew Boss marched off and Bookman went to Cook. “Start the fire!” he said, hiding a smile. “Make the tea as hot as you can.”
November 29
The Chinese contractor rode a sleek brown horse. A long gun was slung across his back; a pistol hung at his belt. He wore Western clothes and smoked a cigar, even in the rain. He looked younger than Ba but not as strong.
“Hot tea?” he shouted. “Is that what your sit-down strike was for? Hot tea? Who started the strike?”
It was no strike, I told myself. Crew Boss saw something that wasn’t here. Luckily, nobody helped the bosses. Cook didn’t know who was responsible because he had left after Crew Boss doused the fire. When he came back, the workers had already gathered. As for Bookman, he said he didn’t arrive until Crew Boss yelled. So he didn’t see the start either.
“This must not happen,” Contractor shouted. “The Chinese company makes rules for food and drink. Crew Boss works for the Red Beard firm. He cannot tell you what to drink or eat. But if he thinks the work is slowing, then he will act. Make sure you know everything before doing stupid things.”
There was nothing stupid about what we did! It was bitterly cold.
Ba did not say anything, but I wonder if he knows that Tiger Face and I were the ones who started this. Even if he does, he won’t give me credit for a good deed. But I deserve it!
November 30
The Red Beards did not work. They are Americans. It is their day to thank God for the harvest. I thought they and the Canadians worshipped one God.
We unpacked the winter food and found a disaster. Little insects crawled among the dried fruits and the dried tofu sticks. The jars of pickled vegetables were mouldy. It will be extra work to carry everything back for an exchange.
Chapter 10
December 1882
December 3
At the store, Poy Uncle cursed the clerks. They refused to exchange the shoddy goods. They blamed us, accusing us of not storing the foods properly. Poy Uncle stomped out and left the food behind. I made a list of the goods. He vowed to get satisfaction.
December 5
We heard the warning whistle and scrambled to get out. But the blast came too soon and knocked Tiger Face to the ground. Now his face is cut up, and his mouth is full of broken teeth and blood. He lies in his tent groaning in pain. We piled on many blankets to keep him warm in the cold.
Both Ba and Poy Uncle shouted at Bookman to tell the blasters to blow their warning whistle earlier. There have been many new Red Beard workers because so many have headed south.
December 7
Poy Uncle is gone.
We heard the warning whistle and ran for cover. Then came a loud bang, followed by another and then another. The rumble of falling rocks and trees came after. They crashed into the stream. We heard the all-clear whistle and went back to work.
Poy Uncle had helped a Red Beard carry the steam drill to the rock face. Then another bang sent a shower of gravel hissing through the air. At the rock face, Poy Uncle and the Red Beard were dead. Flying rocks had killed them. One of the powder charges had been late in exploding.
“I told men not to rush back in,” Bookman moaned. “They should wait longer.”
Tiger Face said, “I think the mountain gods are angry.”
I thought for sure Ba would scream and shout at Bookman, but he did no such thing. He hugged himself tightly, and scrunched his face up tight, as if he wanted to cry. All the men looked anxiously at Ba. They too expected him to unleash a storm of anger at Bookman and Crew Boss. But he didn’t.
I worry about Ba. Poy Uncle was his best friend. They worked together for many years. If only there was something comforting that I could do or say.
December 8
As we dug a grave for Poy Uncle, snow started falling. The large flakes were big enough to catch on a finger, to hold for a half a second. Tears streamed down my cheek. I had known Poy Uncle for as long as I had lived. Ba’s rigid face showed no feelings.
Heading back to work, Ba walked stiffly beside me. I was about to hurry on ahead when he spoke: “Son, if I should die, then you must leave for home right away. Our family can afford to give only one life to the iron road.”
My ears perked up like a rabbit’s. I am ashamed to admit that even at such a sad time, I thought about myself first. I wanted to say “What?” and have Ba repeat himself. I wanted to hear him call me “son” again.
“What if I should die first?” I replied slowly. “Would you go home right away?”
I was surprised when Ba did not say yes. Would he really stay here? Earlier, Tiger Face had said Ba took his work too seriously. What was Ba thinking?
December 10
At Poy Uncle’s grave, Ba whispered, “Old Friend, I will do one more thing for you.”
By chance, a boat was ferrying workers to town. We boarded and told everyone about Poy Uncle. In town, we marched to the store. Ba took Poy Uncle’s list inside. When he came out, someone slammed the door.
“They won’t make good on the shoddy food,” he shouted. “What should we do?”
The men surrounded the building and thumped its walls with rocks. The door flew open. Contractor pointed his gun at the sky and fired. Everyone stopped.
“Get away from the store!” he shouted.
No one moved. He pointed his gun at Ba. “I will kill him!”
Nothing happened.
“Move back!” he cried. “Or I open fire!”
Two Red Beards dashed up. They pointed guns at Contractor and screamed in English. Contractor lowered his weapon.
“Police officials want you to disband,” he yelled. “They must have peace and order here.”
We hurled curses at him.
“The officials order you to leave!” he shouted. “What do you want?”
“Give us satisfaction,” Ba said.
Contractor shook his head. Men pounded the store walls. The Red Beards shouted at Contractor. Finally, he turned to Ba and growled, “This time I’ll give you what you want. But only for the sake of peace.”
Red Beards led Ba and Contractor away. I followed them but was stopped at a building. Contractor came out and snarled, “Your leader will go to jail. You better run before the police arrest all of you for damaging the store.”
December 11
All day long, I kept looking around, expecting to see Ba come back to work. It was hard to believe that Ba had been arrested. He was just trying to get a refund on shoddy goods. Customers who returned rice to our store always got satisfaction.
Bookman cursed Ba for making trouble. Ba would go before a judge, he said, and would go to jail if found guilty. The good news was that the jailers will feed Ba, for I cannot take food to him every day. Only nine days of work remain, but that is $9 that we will not earn. Ba acted because of Poy Uncle’s death, so I hope staying in jail makes him less sad. Still, it must be hard to be alone.
Today was the coldest day ever, worsened by thick clouds that darkened the afternoon well before it was time to stop work. I never imagined that temperatures could go so low. Luckily, Ma had believed such talk, and forced me to bring warm clothing.
December 13
It snowed last night. At work, something hit my neck. I reached
back. It felt cold and wet. I turned around and something hit my cheek. It stung and I howled with pain.
The Red Beards were throwing snow! They packed handfuls of snow into lumps that became heavy enough to hurl. When Old Fire, Tofu Boy and I figured out their stunt, we fought back with our own snow lumps. When Bookman came running, I aimed one straight at him. Then everyone joined in to throw snow lumps at Bookman. We all laughed loudly. Bookman looked as if he had just walked through a snowstorm!
December 15
I hardly slept last night. I was cold, even with Ba’s blankets atop mine, even with my gloves on. If Ma learns Ba might go to prison, she will worry. If Stinky Uncle and Stinky Aunty find out, they will treat her and Little Brother like criminals. Grandfather will frown. It brings shame to the family name. Worst of all, if Ba is in prison, he won’t be able to gamble and win the money we need.
December 17
The walk to town took longer due to the snow. The sun provided no warmth. The store clerks were rude, so I left without asking about Ba.
