My thoughts were in turmoil, and I did not reply immediately. Mr. Warner said, ‘‘I know that we’re asking you to make a great personal sacrifice in leaving your country and crossing the ocean to go all the way to America.’’
After a moment he added, with some difficulty and embarrassment, ‘‘Miss Gilbertson has told us a little of your history. We’ve also noticed that you have not had contact with your family. That was why we thought you might consider coming with us.’’
‘‘I’d like to think things over,’’ I said finally. ‘‘May I give you my answer tomorrow?’’
But as I mounted the stair to my room, I already knew what my answer would be.
I took the rickshaw to the Tao family residence for the last time.
Lao Wang, the gatekeeper, told me Mother was home. But before visiting my mother, I went to see my uncle. I wanted to make the unpleasant visit first, to get it over with.
Big Uncle looked much older. His once-full cheeks were droopy, so that he seemed to have dewlaps. Now that he had no power over me, I found him almost pathetic. He was still elegantly dressed in a long silk robe, and the china teacup he held in his hand was the usual exquisite eggshell porcelain. But he no longer had his former fire.
‘‘If the maid hadn’t told me who you were,’’ he said in his usual abrupt way, ‘‘I would have taken you for a foreign devil!’’
‘‘I’d have to have a much longer nose,’’ I retorted.
‘‘At least you haven’t lost your impudence!’’ said Big Uncle. He took a sip of tea. ‘‘Well, you have condescended to visit us at last. To what do we owe this honor?’’
I could be abrupt, too. ‘‘I’m leaving China and going to America.’’
Slowly and carefully Big Uncle put his teacup down. The expression on his face was one I had never seen there before. I could only describe it as a mixture of guilt, regret, and even admiration. ‘‘It’s been years since you’ve allowed me to have any influence on your actions. I’m surprised that you even bother to come and tell me.’’
‘‘Since you are the head of the family, I thought you should be informed,’’ I said.
Big Uncle’s smile was twisted. ‘‘Head of the family? So you admit it finally?’’
I regarded him thoughtfully. ‘‘I don’t think you would have carried out your threat to make me go to the Fengs as a concubine or send me to a nunnery. You have too much pride in the Tao family name.’’
‘‘It seems that I have underestimated you,’’ said Big Uncle. ‘‘Why did you really come today?’’
‘‘I wanted to say good-bye to my family, since I may never see any of you again,’’ I replied.
‘‘Your brother is not home,’’ Big Uncle said. ‘‘He is going to a public school.’’
At the news I felt a mixture of joy and bitterness: joy, because despite his violent disapproval of public schools, Big Uncle had respected Father’s wishes; bitterness, because there was not enough money to pay tuition for me, a mere girl, but there was enough to pay for my brother.
Suddenly I knew what I would do. I had my pay from the Warners in my pocket, and in three years I had spent hardly any of it. I took out the heavy bag. ‘‘You told me how tight finances were in the Tao family. You’d better take this to help with my brother’s education.’’ I placed the money on Big Uncle’s table, and the clink made by the coins in the bag sounded sweet in my ears.
Without waiting for his answer, I walked out of his study and went to see Mother. I couldn’t resist a swagger—which was possible because I didn’t have to hobble on bound feet.
Unlike Big Uncle, Mother hardly seemed to have aged at all. Her hair was still jet black and her face unlined. ‘‘Too bad Little Brother isn’t home to see you, Ailin,’’ she said tearfully. ‘‘You should have warned us you were coming!’’
‘‘Big Uncle told me Little Brother is going to a public school,’’ I said. I wondered if I would recognize Little Brother now. He certainly wouldn’t recognize me in a Western dress!
‘‘He’s going to the same public school that Liu Hanwei went to,’’ said Mother. She stole a glance at me. ‘‘Did you know that Hanwei won a government scholarship to go study in America?’’
At the mention of Hanwei, I found that I felt no ache for my loss. He was nice enough and would probably make an easy husband to manage. But I didn’t regret not marrying him. ‘‘Maybe I’ll even run into him in America,’’ I said lightly.
Mother burst into a storm of weeping. ‘‘Oh, Ailin, I’ve failed in my duty as a mother! I should have been stronger and insisted on having your feet bound!’’
Now I finally understood why so many generations of mothers kept the custom of binding their daughters’ feet. They believed that their primary duty in raising a daughter was to have her marry well, and the girl was considered attractive and marriageable only if she had bound feet.
‘‘I never thought it would come to this!’’ sobbed Mother. ‘‘I knew you were headstrong, but you don’t deserve this terrible fate! You will be living in a country filled with foreign devils!’’
I had always thought that Mother loved only Little Brother and my two sisters, who gave her so much less trouble than I did. The only time she spoke to me was to correct or scold me. Now I realized that she loved me, too.
‘‘Mother, I’ve been living in a house filled with foreign devils for almost three years!’’ I said. ‘‘I’m strong enough to stand it!’’
I was no delicate shoot buried in the sand. I was a stalk of bamboo, strong enough to stand against wind and snow.
CHAPTER TEN
The biggest boat I had ever traveled on had been a ferry across the Yangtze River. And now I was boarding an ocean liner that would cross the Pacific Ocean. At the Shanghai docks I was just one of hundreds of passengers struggling to go up the gangplank. In my excitement I didn’t have time to feel any pangs at leaving China.
I didn’t realize at first that I was being put in the third-class section of the ship. The Warners were traveling second-class, and the steward was the one who told me that my cabin was in a level below theirs. I followed him down, down, and down narrow, winding stairs.
‘‘We must be close to the bottom of the boat,’’ I said nervously.
He laughed. ‘‘The steerage level is even lower.’’ He stopped in a dark, narrow corridor and pointed at a door. ‘‘Here’s your cabin.’’
I entered a cabin containing four upper and four lower bunks. It seemed that I would be sharing the space with seven other people. I had never slept in a room with strangers before, but then everything about the boat was utterly alien. This was just another stage in the changing of my world.
After stowing away my luggage, I went back on deck. There were so many people milling around that I almost gave up hope of finding the Warners again. Maybe I wouldn’t see them until we arrived in America!
But I did manage to find them eventually, helped by the sound of the children’s voices. I saw Grace and Billy on the second-class deck, peering over the railing and yelling to some friends on the dock. They were beside themselves with excitement.
When Mrs. Warner saw me, she looked acutely embarrassed. ‘‘You mustn’t misunderstand, Eileen. It’s not that we don’t respect you. If we could possibly afford it, we’d put you together with the children, or even get you a separate stateroom. But Mr. Warner’s salary simply doesn’t cover the cost of another second-class passage.’’
I was not offended, but I was surprised. By now I knew the Warners wouldn’t do anything intentionally to demean me. What I hadn’t realized was that they were far from rich. In China they could afford a houseful of servants, including a live-in tutor for their children. Aboard an American ship they were only second-class passengers.
I was almost as embarrassed as my employer and did my best to answer calmly. ‘‘Don’t worry, Mrs. Warner. My cabin is quite clean and comfortable. Besides, the voyage won’t last forever.’’
Mrs. Warner ope
ned her mouth to reply but was called away to greet some acquaintances who had come to say good-bye. Watching Grace and Billy waving to friends, I felt a lump in my throat. I began to wave vigorously at a total stranger below. I had to show the Warners that there were friends coming to see me off, too.
To my amazement I noticed that someone was actually waving back and shouting my name. A plump, short figure pushed forward and ran up the gangplank. It was Xueyan!
‘‘I thought I’d never see you again!’’ she cried, thrusting herself through the crowd at the railing. Tears were streaming down her face.
I had seen Xueyan only once during my three years with the Warners, and that was at Miss Gilbertson’s party. Occupied with Grace and Billy, I had been too busy to visit Xueyan at her home. Also, it had been painful to know that she was continuing her studies at the school while I had to go to work.
But now I was overcome at seeing my friend. I finally managed to clear my throat. ‘‘You’ve cut your hair.’’
‘‘Is that all you can say?’’ Xueyan cried. ‘‘After all the trouble I took to find you?’’
When we finished mopping our eyes, Xueyan said she had heard from Miss Gilbertson that I was leaving for America and had wanted to see me one last time. She had gone to my home and found out from Mother the name of my ship and the date of departure. She had come all the way to Shanghai by train from Nanjing, a journey of several hours.
A loud toot interrupted our talk and made us jump. ‘‘I’d better get off the ship, or I might wind up going with you to America,’’ said Xueyan.
‘‘Well, why not?’’ I said. I even managed a smile.
Xueyan’s lips quivered. ‘‘How I envy you! You’re embarking on a great adventure!’’
Of course Xueyan was only trying to cheer me up, I thought. Then I realized that she was perfectly sincere. I felt my spirits begin to lift. We promised each other to write, and it lifted my spirits even further to realize that I would have many exciting things to write about.
As Xueyan started down the gangplank, she suddenly turned back. ‘‘I almost forgot! In fact this was one of the reasons for coming.’’ She took a pouch from her pocket and handed it over. It was the bag of money I had put on Big Uncle’s table. ‘‘Your uncle told me he was afraid you might wind up in some hole aboard the ship. He wanted to make sure that you’d have accommodations suitable for a daughter of the Tao family.’’
Our ship skirted the edge of a typhoon, which made it toss violently. I had an upper bunk, and I was afraid I’d fall out in spite of the railing. Soon I became too seasick to care. It didn’t help that the cabin was filled with the smell of vomit and the moans of those who wanted to die.
By the fourth day the waves calmed, and when my death wish had passed, I finally staggered up on deck. Again, I had to go up flights of stairs and meander around mazelike corridors before I found the Warners in the second-class lounge.
The children yelled with delight to see me again. Billy hurled himself so violently at me that I was knocked down, and the two of us rolled around on the floor, laughing hysterically.
During the voyage I spent most of the day in second class with the Warners and returned to the third-class section only for meals and at bedtime. I didn’t even try to use the money from Big Uncle to change my stateroom. It would humiliate my employers. Besides, I had no idea of how to go about getting a cabin in a higher class.
It was true that descending into the third-class section after the fresh air on deck was an ordeal. There was little ventilation down in the bowels of the ship, and nowhere could I escape the miasma of unwashed bodies and cooking smells. But as I had said to Mrs. Warner, the voyage wouldn’t last forever. The blow to my status was nothing new. I had endured worse.
Only on one occasion did I feel humiliated. Billy could not get used to the way that the time for meals was advanced every day. The ship was heading east, and that meant the clock had to be regularly set forward. He was never hungry when the dinner gong rang, and he couldn’t eat like the adults, who took advantage of the opportunity to gorge themselves. Billy would eat only a little at the table and then get hungry between meals. Once, he complained so pitifully that I went into the snack bar of the lounge in search of some food for him.
The bartender at the counter looked at me coldly. ‘‘Aren’t you a third-class passenger?’’
I admitted that I was. ‘‘I need a cookie for a little boy I look after.’’
‘‘Go back down to the third-class section!’’ the bartender ordered curtly. ‘‘One of the waiters in the kitchen will find something suitable for you.’’
I felt the blood rush to my face. I took a deep breath, and without conscious effort, I spoke in the haughty tones of Miss Scott, my history teacher at the MacIntosh School. ‘‘If you had taken the trouble to ask, I could have told you that while I’m in the third class, the little boy is a second-class passenger. Now, will you provide me with some cookies suited to his station?’’
The bartender’s jaw dropped. Finally he blinked, reached up to a shelf, and silently handed me a packet of cookies. He was still staring as I walked to the door.
The sound of soft laughter made me look back. A young Chinese man, who had been sitting on a sofa, got up and walked over. He said something in Cantonese, which I didn’t understand. So I shook my head and told him in English that I was from Nanjing and spoke only Mandarin.
He switched also to English. ‘‘I was just saying that you did a good job of putting that bartender in his place. He’s Chinese but treats most Chinese customers like dirt. I had to call a steward to vouch for my right to sit in this chair. Where did you learn to speak English like that?’’
He accompanied me back on deck, and I told him a little about the missionary school I had attended. I noticed that he glanced at my feet briefly and then tactfully looked away.
I learned that his name was James Chew and that he had been born in San Francisco, where his father owned a restaurant. He was just returning from a business trip to Canton, his ancestral home. Like many southerners I had met, he had rounder eyes than the northerners. Southerners also tend to be slight in build, but James Chew was tall and on the husky side. Maybe growing up in America and breathing American air had made him bigger.
I found it pleasant to chat with him, although he was about ten years older than I was. That made him around twenty-six. In spite of his advanced age, he seemed very interested in my background and asked many questions about the Warners and the MacIntosh School.
The rest of the voyage was pleasant. The Pacific, called Taiping Yang by the Chinese, lived up to its name as the ‘‘Sea of Peace’’ and stayed calm. I loved looking at the purple waves, the flying fish, and the incredibly brilliant stars at night. I ran into James Chew quite a few times. In fact, he often took a walk on deck at the same time the children and I did.
James also showed us how to consult the bulletin board and keep track of the progress of our ship. When we crossed the international date line, he explained why it was necessary to set the calendar back one day.
There was a children’s activity room on board, where a storyteller entertained the young people for an hour every afternoon. Since that freed me from keeping an eye on Grace and Billy, I was able to sit in a deck chair outside the activity room and read. Soon I began to find James Chew regularly sitting in the chair next to me.
‘‘I hope you don’t mind my prying,’’ he said, spreading a lap robe over my knees, although it was quite warm. ‘‘You seem to be very well educated, and I’m wondering how you ended up taking care of a couple of American children.’’ He added hurriedly, ‘‘There’s nothing wrong with taking care of kids. It’s an honest job. But didn’t your family think all that money spent on education was wasted?’’
‘‘My family was the main reason why I wound up going to America,’’ I began, and hesitated. Then I continued. ‘‘You must have noticed that I don’t have bound feet.’’
He nodded. ‘‘
Nobody in America has bound feet—except some women brought over as wives for wealthy Chinese businessmen.’’
‘‘The Chinese women with unbound feet become servants or laborers, I suppose,’’ I said dryly.
‘‘Most do,’’ James admitted.
He started to say something more, but Grace and Billy came out of the activity room and began telling me about the story they had just heard.
We settled into a daily routine. While Grace and Billy were in the children’s activity room, James and I chatted outside on the deck. Talking to him was a bit like talking to Second Sister. He was someone who was ready to listen sympathetically without passing judgment.
He asked me again how I had wound up as a nanny for the Warners. Although I had known him for only a couple of weeks, I found myself confiding in him. Up to then Miss Gilbertson had been the only person who knew my full story. I hadn’t even been able to confide completely in the Warners.
Before I knew it I began to tell James Chew about my family, about Father, Grandmother, and Big Uncle. I wanted him to know the truth. I even told him about my broken engagement.
‘‘So that’s my story,’’ I concluded. ‘‘Now you know why I’m on a ship heading for America.’’
He stared at me for a long time. Finally he said, ‘‘You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.’’
At first I thought he was making fun of me. Then I realized he was serious, and I found myself blushing furiously. ‘‘I don’t know what you mean. I’m not a revolutionary or anything. I’m not a woman warrior, like Hua Mulan.’’
‘‘You are a revolutionary,’’ said James. ‘‘And I admire you for fighting a war, a war against tradition.’’
‘‘So you don’t think it’s wrong to fight tradition?’’ I asked. Big Uncle believed that only by maintaining our traditions could we keep our cultural heritage. Father was the one who believed we should look to the new, as well as preserving the old.
‘‘There are some traditions that we just have to fight,’’ said James. He sounded so positive on this point that I wondered if it applied to something in his own life.
Ties That Bind, Ties That Break Page 9
