Jamie Reign

by P J Tierney

  Jamie got closer to the path and made a game of turning quickly, which made the monkey freeze in mid-stride and look around nonchalantly. Jamie was so amused that he failed to notice what was straight ahead. He almost crashed into Morris and the other boys as he stumbled onto the narrow path.

  Morris took one look at the greenish-yellow bruises across Jamie’s nose and laughed. ‘See that, Wesley?’ he said to the boy next to him. ‘That’s what our teacher was telling us. Sifu said one uppercut palm to the nose and it snaps the septum right at the top.’

  Morris reached out to wriggle the broken bone, but Jamie slapped his arm away.

  ‘Careful, boat boy,’ Morris said. ‘One tap and I could push that loose bit of bone all the way into your brain. You’d be dead in an instant.’

  Jamie didn’t doubt that for a second, but he didn’t flinch when Morris feigned a punch at Jamie’s face.

  The little shadow behind Jamie moved. He cowered behind the nearest upright, which happened to be Jamie’s leg, and clung on tight.

  Morris and Wesley and the other boys found this hysterical. ‘Even your monkey’s a coward! Perfect.’

  The laughter got more intense when Wesley pointed at the monkey and said, ‘What is he doing? Oh man, he’s picking his butt.’

  Jamie cringed. Just what he needed — another reason for the boys to tease him. He shook his leg surreptitiously, trying to dislodge the butt-picking monkey. The hold around his calf loosened and he glimpsed something small and brown go flying past him.

  The airborne blob hit Wesley just under his eye and stuck there for a moment. Wesley was too shocked to move. Then, very slowly, the blob slid down his face, leaving a brown trail from his cheek to his chin.

  Wesley’s shock changed quickly to revulsion. He swatted away the dangling blob, then looked at his hand. When he sniffed it, his face showed his utter disgust.

  Jamie tried to keep a straight face, but Wesley’s friends were in hysterics.

  ‘Gross!’ Wesley spat, whipping off his shirt and wiping at his cheek. ‘That is disgusting.’ He sniffed the shirt, which roused great guffaws from the other boys.

  Wesley’s neck turned red and he lunged at the little monkey. It leaped to the safety of the undergrowth, leaving Jamie to face Wesley’s fury. Seeing the faint brown track and the anger on Wesley’s face, Jamie figured it was almost worth it.

  ‘You’re gonna pay for that,’ Wesley hissed and he grabbed Jamie by the shirt.

  Wesley looked around to his friends for support, but they were all in various stages of collapse. He pushed Jamie away in contempt, then balled up his top and hurled it after him. Jamie was quick to dodge the shirt and what was on it, letting it fall to the side of the path.

  Wesley strode off and the other boys eventually composed themselves enough to follow, leaving Jamie standing face to face with Lucy.

  ‘Oh,’ Jamie said, surprised to see her standing there. ‘Late again?’

  ‘Not late enough,’ Lucy said, then added, ‘That was disgusting,’ with emphasis on every syllable.

  Jamie opened his mouth to agree, but the laughter he’d contained up until then came bursting out.

  Lucy rolled her eyes and waited till Jamie could speak again. ‘Is that your monkey?’ she asked.

  Jamie shook his head. ‘Never seen him before in my life.’

  They heard a faint rustle and the monkey appeared from his hiding place. He looked at Jamie and at Lucy, then turned and walked back into the jungle. Jamie could have sworn the monkey was strutting.

  He felt Lucy looking at him and quickly put his hand to his brow to hide the bruises. ‘Um, thanks for yesterday,’ he said.

  Lucy smiled. ‘I should be thanking you.’

  Jamie looked up in surprise.

  ‘For the excuse to kick Morris in the head.’

  He grinned. ‘Those flying ball things were weird though. What do you think they were?’

  Lucy frowned at him. ‘What flying balls?’

  ‘The silvery flying balls,’ Jamie said. ‘They charged at us. Didn’t you see them?’

  Lucy shook her head and made a face that suggested she thought Jamie was crazy.

  ‘They were like balls of white fire. You had to have seen them.’

  Lucy said gently, ‘You’d just been kicked in the head. Maybe it was stars you were seeing.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t stars,’ Jamie said. ‘The boys saw them; ask them.’

  ‘Um, okay,’ Lucy said, glancing over her shoulder and looking uncomfortable. ‘But I wouldn’t go around telling people about flying fire balls, they might think you’re a little bit …’ She cringed.

  ‘A little bit what?’

  ‘Well, mental,’ she said. Then she turned and followed after the boys.

  Jamie walked back to Sai Chun wondering if she was right. Maybe the kick to the head had done more damage than he thought.

  Chapter 6

  Naturally it was Old Mama Chow who first spotted the stranger who wandered into Sai Chun. Her practised eye made a quick assessment: pale canvas robes, a weathered satchel across his shoulder, soft shoes tied all the way up the calf; he was old and of the old ways. Old Mama Chow guessed he was a traveller with no money to spend, but she thought she’d give her pitch a try anyway. She opened her mouth to call out to him, but he had already turned to face her.

  ‘Have you eaten?’ she asked in greeting.

  ‘I have, thank you,’ the stranger said.

  He looked around the village square and winced when he saw the gash in the side of the ancient stone well.

  ‘Are you looking for someone?’ Old Mama Chow asked, her nosiness barely disguised.

  The stranger paused and seemed to concentrate. ‘A man with a boat,’ he said slowly. ‘I need the services of a man with a boat.’

  ‘Well, there’re a few here,’ Old Mama Chow said. ‘Chan’s is the biggest, but if you want speed you should speak to Low See Fut. He’ll charge you too much — he always charges too much; I never buy prawns from him — but very fast boat.’

  ‘Hmm, I might need something a little more … ahh …’ The stranger searched for the right word and his eyes settled on Hector’s tug. ‘Specialised. Who owns the tug further down?’

  ‘Gweilo — a cranky one too. He has a nice boy, though, you talk to the boy. The father …’ She mimed the tipping of a glass to her lips.

  The man nodded and bowed his appreciation. He walked towards Hector’s tug, detouring slightly to take a look at the Leungs’ unfinished traditional-style house.

  Hector and Jamie were cleaning the diving equipment when the stranger approached the gangplank. He placed his right fist into the open palm of his left and bowed. ‘May I come aboard?’

  Hector made a show of downing his tools, letting the stranger know he was interrupting.

  ‘You dive, Mr Reign?’ the man asked.

  Hector nodded, his defences coming down a little. ‘You know my name?’ he said. ‘My reputation precedes me.’

  ‘No, Mr Reign,’ the stranger said, lifting his chin towards the back of the deck, ‘your tool box does.’

  Jamie smiled: Hector’s name was printed boldly on the side of the box. The stranger gave Jamie a little wink and he had to force a cough to cover his laugh.

  ‘I have an urgent matter that requires a boat and some discretion,’ the stranger said.

  Hector let the tool-box comment slide. Jamie knew he did this because discretion usually cost a lot more. ‘I’m listening,’ Hector said.

  ‘My name is Fan Yulong and I carry with me a chart that marks the location of a reef.’

  ‘I know every reef around here, old man,’ Hector boasted. ‘Tell me where you want to go and I’ll get you there.’

  ‘This reef has particular … characteristics,’ Mr Fan said, searching for the right word. ‘It has not appeared on any chart for over two hundred years.’

  Hector’s eyes grew wide. An unmarked reef meant ships could get caught on it, and when ships got caught, the
treasure they were carrying sank. Jamie knew that Hector was already calculating two hundred years of salvage riches. ‘And what do you want once we get there?’ he asked.

  ‘There is something that needs to be retrieved,’ Mr Fan said, looking at the dive gear.

  Tact was not one of Hector’s qualities. He made a show of looking the man up and down. ‘It won’t be cheap.’

  Jamie cringed.

  ‘Payment is not a problem, Mr Reign.’ The man put his hand into the draping sleeve of his robe and removed a silk purse. He took out a small figurine of a gold dragon and handed it to Hector.

  He looked at it. ‘Is it real gold?’

  Mr Fan nodded. ‘I would like to leave as soon as possible.’

  ‘The tide runs at midnight. Early enough for you?’

  ‘That will do nicely.’

  Mr Fan sat on a stool on deck and seemed content to wait there until midnight. Jamie noticed that he watched the Leungs’ house, paying particular attention to Bohai when he came home from school.

  In the afternoon, Jamie took a plate of sandwiches to Mr Fan.

  ‘Thank you, young one. What is your name?’

  ‘Jamie.’ He held out his hand as Hector had taught him.

  Mr Fan furrowed his brow as his hand closed over Jamie’s. He turned Jamie’s palm upwards, inspected it, then shook his head as if embarrassed by a mistake. ‘And how old are you, Jamie?’

  ‘Just turned twelve,’ he said as he eased his hand away.

  The old man raised his eyebrows. ‘Year of the Dragon. What about the boy over there?’ He pointed to the Leungs’ house.

  ‘Bohai’s two weeks older than me.’

  The old man frowned. ‘Not a dragon then.’

  ‘No, but he should have been; he was born a few weeks early. I think his dad was a bit peeved by that.’

  ‘I would think so. Are there any other children in the village?’

  ‘Bohai’s younger brothers — they’re eight —’

  Mr Fan held up his hand. ‘Any others who are twelve?’

  Jamie ran a quick inventory through his head. The Chans had two older girls, and the Kwoks a grandson a couple of months younger, but he didn’t live here any more. ‘No, just Bohai and me.’

  Mr Fan looked Jamie up and down and said slowly, ‘So you are the Dragon.’ He stared at Jamie intently, as if he was trying to see something under the surface.

  Jamie fidgeted and changed the subject. ‘So, um, what’s on this reef?’

  ‘You know, young one, I’m not really sure.’

  ‘You’re not sure?’ It was a lot of gold to pay for ‘not really sure’, Jamie thought.

  ‘Sometimes omens lead and you just have to follow,’ the man said.

  He was getting stranger with every passing minute.

  ‘What omens led you here?’ Jamie asked.

  ‘That is a very long story,’ Mr Fan said. He looked past Jamie to the trawler moored alongside The Swift. ‘Is that your boat as well?’

  Jamie nodded. ‘Until we sell it anyway. It’s a salvage claim.’

  The old man nodded too. ‘I don’t know much about boats, but it looks awfully clean for a fishing trawler.’

  Jamie looked at The Seabird and shrugged. ‘I think they’re new nets.’

  ‘It’s a little more than that, isn’t it?’ Mr Fan prompted.

  Mr Fan had a point. Jamie had thought the same thing himself, when he was cleaning the trawler after the storm. The fish holds looked like they’d never had any fish in them: there was no discolouration at the watermark, no scales or slime and, quite oddly, no smell either.

  Jamie looked at the man curiously. There seemed a lot more to him than his old clothes implied.

  ‘I’m just observant,’ the man said, conscious of Jamie’s stare. He picked up a sandwich and inspected it as if he’d never seen one before. ‘I think your father needs you.’

  Just as Jamie turned to the cabin, Hector called out to him.

  How did he know?

  Jamie turned back to the old man, but he was lost in the delights of a spam and ketchup sandwich.

  Chapter 7

  Hector sent Jamie to the marketplace to stock up on supplies for the trip to the reef. The marketplace was on the northern headland at the top of the steep escarpment path. It was a busy, bustling place with row upon row of tarpaulin-covered stalls. There were tables laden with vegetables and fruit, dried herbs and mushrooms. There were stalls selling brightly coloured plastic toys and flimsy-looking hand-tools. On the edge of the covered market stalls were roller-shuttered buildings. One was a butcher shop, another a restaurant, and there was one that was always dark and smoke-filled — Jamie was pretty sure it was a gambling den.

  Jamie dodged the old ladies dragging their wheeled shopping trolleys and said a polite ‘no, thank you’ to the man offering designer handbags out the back. He savoured the smell of the freshly baked dan tarts at one stall and hurried past the caged chickens that pecked at him from another.

  As usual, Jamie’s shopping list was far too long for the amount of money Hector had given him. He paced the aisles, looking for the best prices, and stopped at a table that sagged under the weight of bright green vegetables. The fat man sitting behind the table could barely reach around his stomach to hold his newspaper.

  Jamie asked, ‘How much for the choy sum?’

  The stallholder glanced up from the paper, pointed at a handwritten sign and said, ‘It’s right there.’

  The sign was a meaningless scrawl to Jamie, but he put on a smile and said, ‘Maybe for the tourists that’s all right, but what about for me? I’m here all the time.’

  The man looked him up and down, then turned his attention back to the newspaper. He flicked dismissively at the sign and said, ‘You pay that.’

  Jamie stared at the scrawl. The stallholder must have sensed an easy target because he peered over his paper.

  ‘What, can’t you read?’ he said. ‘A big boy like you can’t read?’

  Jamie lowered his head and was moving to the next table when he heard a voice say, ‘Two for a dollar? Are you mad?’

  It came from a boy Jamie had seen around the marketplace before. He looked about Jamie’s age and, like Jamie, didn’t seem to go to school. What had made Jamie first notice him wasn’t the huge amount of food he bought, nor the old-lady trolley he dragged behind him, nor the fact that he never wore shoes. What made the boy stand out to Jamie was the way he got to and from the market, in an old and oddly proportioned sampan boat.

  The boy turned to Jamie. ‘The woman in the next aisle has ’em at four for a dollar fifty.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ the stallholder scoffed. ‘No-one’s selling four for a dollar fifty.’ But he shot a worried glance over his left shoulder all the same.

  The boy shrugged. ‘I’m not lying.’ He raised his chin towards Jamie, then to the next aisle. ‘Come on, I’ll show you where.’

  The fat man took the bait. ‘Five for two dollars,’ he said.

  The boy stopped, thought about it for a minute and said, ‘Six.’

  ‘Six? No, go away.’ The boy shrugged and turned to leave. ‘Oh, all right then, six. But don’t tell anyone.’

  Both boys quickly counted out some coins before he could change his mind.

  The sampan boy pulled Jamie away. ‘What are you doing buying from him? He’s a cranky old cheat.’

  Jamie grinned. ‘I don’t feel bad about getting six of these for two dollars then. You know, I’ve walked all the aisles and no-one’s selling four for a dollar fifty.’

  The boy flashed a huge and cheeky grin. ‘How would you know? You can’t read.’

  Jamie’s cheeks burned as he tried to find the words to deny it, but the boy was gone, dashing into the crowd, leaving Jamie staring after him.

  Jamie finished his shopping and lugged his bags back towards the escarpment path. He was passing by an open-front restaurant when he heard someone call his name. It was Lucy, at a table on her own and waving frantically
. She wore her school uniform and a headband with two long springs that sprouted purple pom-poms.

  Jamie checked his watch, figured he had a couple of minutes to spare and joined her. But with only a few coins left in his pocket, he knew he wouldn’t be eating anything.

  ‘No school today?’ he asked.

  Lucy shrugged. ‘What are they going to do, expel me? Every time they send a note home, my father buys them another building.’

  Jamie grinned. ‘So it’s a big school then?’

  Lucy raised her eyebrows and her teacup. ‘Getting bigger by the day.’

  The staff rushed to place a bowl and chopsticks in front of Jamie, then wheeled dim sum trolleys up to the table. Lucy chose the steamed prawn dumplings and the snow-pea sprout ones as well, plus long rolls of rice noodles wrapped around some finely sliced barbecued pork. A bamboo basket of steamed bread rolls was plopped in front of Jamie, and because they were almost out of room the next bamboo basket, with a plate of pork ribs inside, was balanced on top. Lucy waved away the finely chopped tripe and screwed her nose up at the chicken’s feet.

  ‘What sort of Chinese person are you?’ Jamie asked as the chicken’s feet were whisked away.

  ‘A smart one,’ she said. ‘Can you imagine what those feet have been walking in?’

  ‘I think they clean them first.’

  ‘Which reminds me,’ Lucy said, ‘what happened to that butt-picking monkey?’

  Jamie smiled at the memory of Wesley’s streaked face. ‘I haven’t seen him around.’

  ‘Shame,’ she said, ‘he really seemed to be looking out for you.’

  The food smelled wonderful and Jamie’s mouth watered, but he didn’t reach for any of it. The staff stood close by with teapots ready, topping up their cups after every sip. It was getting a little annoying.

  ‘You know,’ Jamie said, leaning in close, ‘I’ve been here before.’ He omitted the fact it was via the back door to sell razorfish to the chef. ‘And I can tell you that no-one ever gets this much attention.’