by Paul Yee
That is what being powerful means: you never wait for anything.
April 4
Now that rock is unloaded so quickly, another crew of Chinese arrived to help build up the roadbed. I had hoped to see familiar faces from my earlier crews, but no such luck. The newcomers were friendly and came to chat with us. One fellow told us about the big fire in Guang Zhou last year. Eight hundred houses were burned, and there were fierce battles between looters and soldiers.
April 6
The Jung-San men complained about Bookman giving the easy work to his fellow Zhou kinsmen. Bookman pretended to be innocent.
“I hadn’t noticed this was going on,” he declared. “If anything unfair is happening, it is accidental. Truly! I’ll make sure this does not happen again.”
What a liar!
April 8
I went to the nearby stream early this morning but failed to catch any fish. They were probably still sleeping. Then I managed to find a hard-to-see trail that led back to near our camp. I am a genius!
Cook had brought back two live chickens from town. He cooked them yesterday, so both groups had one for their offerings. Cook also purchased incense and candles and spirit money.
Everyone was dismayed at the sight of the grave markers. One name had been brushed onto the wood long ago, and then someone had cut into the wood with a knife, tracing the outline of the brush strokes. The ink had washed away, and the only way to read the marker was to pull it out and hold it at a certain angle to the light.
On the other marker, the name Lee Yiu-nam, from San Lei village in Toi-San, had been scratched on faintly with a dull knife. Again, the winter was eating away the words. Soon, nothing would show on the marker, which had split down its centre. Lee Yiu-nam was only twenty-one years old when he died.
We Lees decided to make a new marker for our kinsman. The words would be brushed onto wood in ink, and then cut in deeply with knife and pick. We would oil the wood to protect it. There was no guarantee the marker would last seven years, but it was the best we could do. Someone suggested getting a railway tie to use as a marker, but we had no saws for cutting it down to the right size.
April 9
I can hardly write properly. My hands are shaking from what I just learned.
After dinner, Ba told me to walk with him. We strode away from the camp. He quietly told me that when he and Poy Uncle first saw the dangers of railway work, they made a vow. They promised each other that if one of them got killed, then the other man would return to China and care for the other man’s family. Ba told me he had delayed going back while trying to earn more money for everyone. Now his conscience bothers him. He says he was wrong to stay longer. Last night, he saw Poy Uncle in a dream, calling from a boat out on the ocean. Ba said we should return to China soon.
I reminded him how he was the one who thought we should work here so that in the future, Chinese people could live in this country. He looked away. He didn’t know I had heard that, he said. Now that Poy Uncle was gone, he wasn’t sure it was worthwhile.
For ninety-five per cent of my time in Canada, I have longed to go home. Suddenly I was not sure. “The work is not as dangerous as before,” I said cautiously. “No one has died at this work site. We will not get hurt, doing this work.”
Ba curtly reminded me of his promise, so I stopped talking. No point in arguing when it comes to deals made with ghosts. At the end, he sighed and said that we would wait and see.
April 11
It is as if Ba and I never talked two days ago. Our people are muttering angrily. Bookman kept his so-called promise to be fair for two days, but now his kinsmen are getting all the easy jobs again. Ba went with the Jung-San fellow to complain to Bookman. This time, he blamed us for the problem!
“You people are never around when I need you!” he shouted. “You’re always clumped together, chatting among yourselves, far down the line. You should pay attention to the work around you. You should know when it’s time to change workers. That’s when you should come to me. What am I supposed to do? Chase you down with a gold-engraved invitation?”
“If things don’t get better,” Ba declared, “then we’re going to complain to Contractor.”
Old Fire and Saltwater Crisp clapped Ba on the back and said, “Well done!”
April 12
A worker in the second Chinese crew is having a hard time with his crew boss. He is surnamed Liang, and every time he passes Short Boss, Short Boss will call out in English and make the Red Beards laugh. Liang is short and slight, and his two front teeth stick out. He wears a Western vest and always looks neat. I think he has been teased all his life, but it should end for a grown man.
Today Short Boss grabbed Liang’s queue and pulled. Liang stumbled to the ground, and Short Boss yanked him up. Liang cried out in pain. His friends ran up, and Short Boss backed off, holding up his palms. But he was laughing all the while.
April 14
Top Boss rode in again, followed by two horses. One carried a Red Beard in a stiff suit, and the other was loaded with small equipment. Bookman reported that he was a photographer come to take pictures of the stone-unloading machine. It had been invented by Top Boss after he started working on this railway.
We stood to the side and waited. The Red Beard workers posed in front of the engine, the cars and the stone-unloading machine. They thrust their thumbs under their suspenders and puffed out their chests. At one point the photographer shouted to the engineer to stop the plough. We had never seen it stop halfway through its scraping. The photographer took many pictures and moved his camera around. He pointed at us, but the Crew Bosses shook their heads and pulled him away.
April 17
Ba showed me a letter he had picked up in town. Ma has more bad news. Little Brother refuses to look at his books. Instead, he runs around with a trio of wild boys. They go to town and loiter on the busy street, hoping that a vendor will toss them a treat or that a merchant might pay one to run an errand. When they get into people’s way, they get scolded.
Aunty Stinky told Ma to sell her few pieces of gold and jade. Ma snapped back, “These are for Heen-gwong’s bride.”
Aunty Stinky embarrassed Ma at the temple. During First of Winter, Aunty Stinky tipped the temple keeper but said the money was only from her and her sister. Ma had no money and was left red-faced.
Grandfather swears he quit gambling, but Ma’s neighbours tell her differently. She cannot challenge him, so she wants Ba to go home and do so. She also mentioned how the poor winter harvest had pushed up the price of rice.
Ba reminded me that we would leave soon. I stomped off without saying a word, refusing to encourage him. If he wants to go home, then he should stop gambling and protect his savings.
April 19
We were taking a rest and Cook’s assistant brought us huge kettles of cooled boiled water. Helper was pouring a scoopful for Liang when Short Boss walked up. He had a metal mug, so of course Helper filled it. Then Short Boss held it out to Liang. Liang did not understand and looked around in confusion. Short Boss stood patiently, waiting for an answer. When Liang finally nodded, Short Boss poured the water over Liang. Everyone laughed and said he should not have nodded. He should have run off instead.
April 20
We have extended the roadbed quite a distance, but more ties and rails did not come until today.
As the Red Beards spike the long rails to the ties, the ringing echoes of steel on steel fill the air like hundreds of blacksmiths hammering. Nothing can be heard over the noise. It is deafening, and I think everyone’s eardrums are hurt or they are getting headaches.
Pairs of men face each other over the rail but they work as one. The first man slams his hammer onto the spike. While he swings his hammer around for the next blow, his partner bangs the same spike. Each man swings his hammer wide to get solid power behind it, but they never miss the spike, never hit one another. Instead, they create their own steady rhythm. After a while, the sound seems to be part of nat
ure, rising out of the ground. Spikes go in on both sides of a rail, tight against the steel, so that the rail will stay in place for the trains. The men are accurate but they are amazingly quick. A count of fifteen will see a spike installed. When the shrill whistle announces a break, the sudden silence is as shocking as when I dive off a crowded bridge into a deep river.
I asked Old Fire why we could not do track-laying.
“The Company must employ Red Beard workers too,” he replied. “If it used only Chinese workers, Canadians would complain. They don’t want their taxes making us rich.”
“Rich?” I sputtered. “Nobody gets rich working like this.”
April 21
Today I let out a big breath of relief! I finished paying for my ship ticket. I earned $12.98 this month, the second highest amount so far.
Ba earned $15.40 this month, so I am doing well by comparison. So far my total is $31.72 and Ba has $45.50. If I hadn’t gotten sick, I would have more money than him. I asked Ba if we had enough to pay for tickets back to China and to pay off Grandfather’s debt. Ba shook his head, so I proposed that we work another month here. He agreed reluctantly. I didn’t let out a cheer until I was deep in the woods by myself. I should have proposed he stop gambling too, but that would have been impossible. I also whispered a prayer to Poy Uncle, begging him to understand our situation.
April 22
I was busy writing letters today, so I did not get away to fish. Some men describe Bookman’s unfair treatment in their letters. Others talk about the pretty springtime, with wildflowers blooming everywhere. They complain about the food and recall dishes from home. They mention how we observed Ching Ming here, with all the proper rituals. Other people have family troubles, just like us.
One man was in a rush and would not think about what to say. “Just write the same words you put down for the fellow before me,” he said. “I’ll pay you the same, even though it’s easier for you since you’ve already written it once before.”
It is strange that I have written so many letters, but never one for myself. How could I? As long as Ba was here, only the household head could report matters to Grandfather and Ma. I could only write to Little Brother, and why would I waste my time on him?
But if I was to write to him now, then I would say this spring season differs from all other springs that I have known. I saw the land change, from blinding white to green shades and flower colours. The giant fire car ran over the iron road that I helped to lay. Suddenly I believe that anything is possible. Maybe we will build a railway in China. Ba’s debt was a dark cloud. I will never make that mistake again, rush to believe something without the facts. If Little Brother wants to grow up quickly, then he should come here.
April 23
There was no work for us. The train did not deliver stone, and we had flattened the roadbed several times. Bookman and Crew Boss shrugged and said nothing could be done. Rain fell all day and we huddled under the trees to stay dry.
April 24
A few days ago, a Lee kinsman went and loudly praised Bookman’s handwriting. Then Bookman agreed to do the brushwork for the grave marker. He really has a fine hand, which is surprising because Teacher says you can tell from a man’s brushwork if he is kind-hearted or not. A Lee in another tent started carving the words but cut his thumb badly. His job landed on me. Tiger Face offered to help, even though he is not a Lee. I will take it to work, in case there are more delays.
April 26
Short Boss stuck out his foot when Liang passed by and tripped him. Then Short Boss pretended to be surprised and helped him to his feet. Liang’s palms and knees were cut and bloodied, and he angrily shook off Short Boss. Bookman told us he had warned Crew Boss that a fight will erupt if Short Boss does not stop bullying Liang.
Bookman urged us to work faster. “Don’t let the track-laying machine catch up to you,” he said. “Then Red Beards will stand there and watch your every move.”
“Let’s switch jobs,” Old Fire called out. “If the Red Beards are so strong and fast, let them extend the roadbed instead. We Chinese will lay the tracks!”
April 27
We finished carving the marker today, thanks to several delays at work. Cook gave us oil to rub into the wood. Ba will return the marker on the next rest day. He worries we kept it away for too long and may have angered the dead man.
Ba was never home for funerals, so I never knew his view of them. Some men call them a waste of time. Others fear them and hide from death processions. No-one close to me ever died. The men who died here were the closest. I never saw how death affected people the way it changed Ba. I know now that Ba must return to China. Problem is, I am more and more sure that I do not want to go.
I did a count of deaths and accidents, and discovered that all the incidents that I recorded in my journal occurred last year. In the seven weeks of this year’s work, we have been safe. This latest job is safer: no falling trees, no explosives, no boulders falling from high up. I pray we do not get moved back to do tunnel work again.
April 28
Liang wears a hat to protect his queue but that did not stop Short Boss from harassing him. Short Boss grabbed his cap, a very nice hat, and dangled it in front of Liang. When he lunged for it, Short Boss threw it to his buddy. The two Red Beards tossed it between them, laughing as Liang jumped in vain to intercept the hat. Finally our crew boss marched in, grabbed the hat and handed it back to its owner.
April 30
This is a strange country. The newest gambling involves the railway! Somehow, our two Chinese bookmen started to race our crew bosses on the handcar, to see who could pump it to go faster. Of course they cannot race side by side because there is only one track and one handcar. Instead, one pair takes a run on the handcar. At the finish line, their time is recorded. Two timekeepers use two watches to keep everyone honest. The pair who wins two out of the three races is declared winner.
In both the Chinese and Red Beard camps, money was collected as men wagered on who would win. To everyone’s surprise, the Chinese won the first match two days ago. Many Chinese had bet the Red Beards would win because they look bigger and stronger. Yesterday, a rematch was won by the Red Beards. At camp, everyone is talking about the races, trying to explain why the Chinese won at first, and then lost.
The track-laying machine tests the new rails each time it moves forward, so the handcar is not needed for that task. Next time there is a race, I am running over to watch.
Chapter 15
May 1883
May 2
The Chinese contractor scolded us severely. Liang’s problems with Short Boss had come to his attention, and he was not happy.
“You are guest workers,” he shouted at us. “That’s all you are. To Red Beards, you are nothing! Did you know that? They are keen for the railway to be finished, for then you will leave. If you want earnings to take with you, then you should behave properly. You can be fired easily. You can be replaced easily. More Chinese are arriving and asking for railway work, did you know that? If any Red Beard gives you trouble, my advice to you is: stay out of his way! You don’t know when the Company may start to discharge workers. It could be soon, or it could be later.”
The workers seethed as they listened.
At the end, Contractor said coldly, “I hear of handcar races here. The Company forbids them. Anyone caught racing a handcar will be fired right away.”
May 3
The explosion we had all been awaiting erupted today. It was exceptionally hot this afternoon, as hot as China’s summer, so that may have set off Liang. He carried two baskets of gravel by Short Boss and his friends. Short Boss called out something that made his little crowd chortle. Liang dropped his load and charged at Short Boss. He moved quickly and picked up a rock and smashed it into Short Boss’s face. Blood spurted out from his nose. Short Boss grabbed Liang around the neck and choked him, but Liang kept hitting Short Boss with the rock. The two men kicked viciously at one another. The Red Beards tried to
stop the fight but Liang’s workmates blocked them.
“Let them fight,” they shouted in Chinese. “Only this will end their battle.”
The Red Beards saw Liang gaining the upper hand, and pushed their way through. Liang broke free and ran off just in time. Short Boss fell to the ground and his friends carried him away. Crew Boss ordered us back to work.
When we returned to camp, Liang was gone. Bookman had taken him away, to hide him in one of the other camps farther down the river. When Bookman came back, he said the Red Beards would likely invade our camp to beat Liang up. The only way to help him was to help him escape. Then Bookman went to advise the crew bosses that Liang had run away.
May 4
Last night, hardly anyone in our camp slept well. Short Boss was not at the site today, but we continued to extend the roadbed.
A scuffle broke out between some men, but I was too far away to see it. Afterwards, no one wanted to talk about it. Did something shameful happen, or do they think I am too young to hear?
May 6
I finally saw a handcar race! Unlike dragon boat races, there are no drums, no crowds, and no colourful start line. The advantage of using one cart is that no one is tempted to sabotage it. The race happens so quickly that no wonder I missed the first two races.
