The Seekers

by F. M. Parker

  * * *

  “It’s Dokken,” Errin growled to Levi and stopped dead on the sidewalk.

  The two men were walking to their rented house after meeting with Louden. Dokken had just emerged from the entrance of the bank on Stockton Street. He stood under the awning of the bank out of the drizzling rain.

  “He hasn’t seen us yet,” Levi said and halted at Errin’s side. “He’ll be mad at you for helping that Mexican woman and may want to fight.”

  “I hope he does start something,” Errin replied flat and ugly. He set his feet and slid his hand in under his jacket and took hold of his pistol.

  Dokken looked expectantly to the side at the carriageway that led past the bank to the stables at the rear. Then he glanced in the opposite direction and saw Errin and Levi. He pivoted swiftly to face the two men and his hand disappeared in under the front of his coat.

  “He’s trying to decide whether to shoot you or not,” Levi said.

  “Quiet!” Errin commanded.

  Levi saw Errin was taut, his eyes locked on Dokken. He was coiled, prepared to fight. More than that, from his expression, he wanted to fight. Levi then understood the sharp order to be silent. It had been dangerously foolish to have spoken and thus break Errin’s concentration on Dokken and lessen his chance to live through this hazardous confrontation with the expert pistolman.

  “Who are you?” Dokken called in a rough voice. “Why have you twice butted into my affairs?”

  “My name’s Scanlan. The Beremendes woman is a friend of mine and I don’t like the way you treat her.”

  Dokken thrust a glance at Levi, checked him, and then back to Errin. “Get in my way one more time and I’ll shoot you,” Dokken threatened.

  “Stay away from Celeste Beremendes,” Errin retorted.

  Brol Mattoon came out of the bank and onto the sidewalk. He looked at Dokken and then along the street at Errin and Levi. He said something to Dokken in a low voice that Errin could not hear. Dokken replied in the same muted tone.

  “Mattoon’s even better with a pistol than Dokken,” Levi said, daring to speak. “For God’s sake, don’t fight both of them.”

  “Are they that good of friends that he would help him?” Errin asked. He didn’t want Levi shot. Should a gunfight start, he would surely be one of the targets. Errin must end this before it got out of control. But how?

  A horse-drawn buggy, the top raised and a young Chinaman driving, wheeled out of the carriageway and stopped on the street near Mattoon and Dokken. Mattoon said something to Dokken. The man shook his head. Mattoon spoke forcibly to Dokken and then climbed into the buggy. Dokken grudgingly turned away from Errin and Levi and followed after Mattoon.

  The Chinaman tapped the reins upon the rump of the horse and the vehicle pulled into the street. As it passed, Dokken was speaking to Mattoon and both were watching the two men on the sidewalk.

  “You probably just escaped getting killed,” Levi said.

  “Maybe. And maybe someone else would’ve got himself killed.”

  “You’d fight for the Mexican woman?”

  “Yes. And stop calling her the Mexican woman. Her name’s Celeste Beremendes.”

  “All right. Celeste Beremendes. But now you know how I feel about Chun.”

  “I know. Those two women can get us into a hell of a lot of trouble. But what’s a man without a woman?”

  * * *

  Chun bowed low to the two Americans as they entered the door. She was freshly bathed and her dark hair glistened. She wore a new dress, a dark blue one she had purchased with money Levi had given her. She raised her head and looked at Levi with bright eyes. He had left the house early in the morning without waking her and she was glad to see him.

  “Good day, Mr. Coffin,” she said.

  “Good day to you, Chun, and call me Levi.”

  The Chinese girl turned to Errin. “Good day to you, Mr. Scanlan.”

  “Hello, Chun.” Errin felt the girl’s dislike for him. It was deserved for she had heard him tell Levi that she would be trouble for them. Further, he had not been friendly toward her.

  “What smells so delicious?” Levi asked.

  “I have prepared food,” Chun said, pleased. “Is that agreeable to you?”

  “It surely is, for I’m hungry,” Levi replied. “What did you cook?”

  “You will see. If you both will be seated, I shall serve you.”

  Levi watched Chun as she placed the food on the table. Her movements were fluid and graceful. He caught her casting glances at him. The expression in her eyes mesmerized him. He wanted to reach out and caress her ivory skin, to do more than that, something that made him blush. He looked away.

  Levi saw Errin looking at him. He grinned at Errin and began to eat the food Chun had prepared.

  Errin had observed how the China girl often looked at Levi, her almond eyes lingering upon him. Levi was embarrassed by her attention. That young fellow would soon have to do something about Chun. The first thing he should do was to make love to her and satisfy her obvious yearning.

  Levi liked the food, fresh oysters in a mixture of vegetables, millet soup with noodles, bamboo shoots, warm bread, and strong black tea. It was a strange combination of ingredients but quite tasty. “Where did you get the food for the meal?” he asked.

  “There is a store that sells these things only a few blocks away in a place called Portsmouth Square,” Chun said. “They also sell clothing,” she added and hoped Levi would notice her new dress.

  “You shouldn’t have gone out of the house. It was risky because the men could still be looking for you.” He would not tell her of the reward.

  “I thought I would be safe in the daytime.”

  “You’re not safe in the daylight or in the night,” Errin interjected bluntly. “Levi should tell you that there are assassins searching for you to take your head. And there’s a reward for Levi for helping you to escape.”

  Chun staggered back a step. “Take my head? Reward for Levi? Is that so, Levi?”

  “And a reward for Errin too since he helped me.”

  “Oh, Levi, I’m so sorry that I may have brought more danger to you and Mr. Scanlan. I will be much more careful in the future. But how am I to learn the city and find employment?”

  “Don’t be in a hurry about that. You’re welcome to stay with us. Isn’t that right, Errin?”

  “Whatever you want, Levi. But now for certain, she can’t stay in this house any longer. Wait until it’s late night, then take her to Isaiah Green’s house. Be sure you’re not seen or followed.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Levi said. “No one will think to look for her in a black man’s house.”

  “I’m not that sure,” Errin said worriedly for he believed the assassins would be very thorough in their search for Chun.

  Chapter 22

  “Goddamn heathen Chinamen!” a man shouted fiercely.

  “Bastard coolies!” a second man bellowed.

  Errin heard a hundred voices take up the call, a bedlam of angry curses and threats. The cries came from the throng of white men completely blocking The Embarcadero at the shoreward end of a long pier extending into San Francisco Bay. The mob seemed ready to pounce upon somebody that he couldn’t see. He hastened his step toward the crowd, mostly men wearing the coarse clothing of laborers.

  Errin had come to the waterfront to contract newly arriving immigrants for his pool of skilled workers. He had heard of two ships arriving and wanted to catch the men coming directly off them so that he had his choice of those who were true journeyman level craftsmen. This tactic had proved very successful and he was pleased with the caliber of workmen on the roster for his hiring hall.

  He pushed through the press of men to the front. Hundreds of Chinese men, carrying their skimpy possessions in their arms, were filing down the gangway of a steamship and hurrying on along the pier toward the shore. The Chinamen were small men, gaunt and bony. They appeared quite alien with their foreheads shaved for a third o
f the distance back across the tops of their heads and long queues hanging down their backs. Their eyes rolled with apprehension as they watched the large white men shouting and cursing them.

  “Send the heathens back to China,” a man near Errin shouted. “Cut off their pigtails for a starter.” He pulled his jackknife and ran forward and grabbed the queue of one of the Chinamen trotting past. Before the white man could wield his knife, the frightened Chinaman tore free and darted ahead out of reach.

  At the shoreward end of the pier, two American port officials sat at a table under a portable shelter. A Chinaman, an interpreter, and a pair of policemen stood beside the officials. The policemen uneasily eyed the noisy, threatening swarm of white men.

  The interpreter called to the arriving Chinamen and they formed up in two lines in front of the table and facing the port officials. The small men answered a series of questions put to each of them through the interpreter. Then the policemen searched them with rough hands.

  “What are they looking for?” Errin asked a man standing beside him.

  “Opium,” answered the man. “The heathens are all dope addicts.”

  The man turned back to the Chinamen and yelled out, “Send all the yellow bastards back to China so they won’t take American jobs.” He lifted a half brick he had hidden beside his leg, cocked his arm and hurled the missile at the Chinamen.

  As the man heaved the brick, Errin struck his arm and the object flew wild, sailing over the heads of the Chinamen. The brick struck the wooden decking of the street and bounced into the crowd on the far side. A man, hit by the brick, cursed and shook his fist across the street.

  The man who had thrown the brick wheeled around on Errin. “What the hell are you doing? You made me miss.”

  “You could kill a man with something like that,” Errin replied.

  “Then you did it on purpose. Why you damn, Chinaman lover, I’ll smash your face.”

  Errin didn’t want a fistfight with one of the swarm of white men. He moved swiftly upon the angry man and caught him by the points of his shoulders, and dug his fingers viciously into the muscles. The man winced.

  “You’re not man enough to smash my face,” Errin said in a flinty voice.

  The man swallowed and his Adam’s apple pumped up and down. He pulled back trying to break free. Errin let him go.

  “You’re still a Goddamned Chinaman lover,” yelled the man as he retreated hurriedly into the crowd.

  Errin pushed his way closer to the inspection station and listened to the questions and watched the prying hands of the lawmen check the bodies and clothing of the Chinamen. The small, brown men answered the queries in the briefest of words. They remained stoic and unmoving to the prodding fingers. Yet Errin saw the doubt and uncertainty in their eyes. They were brave men to have undertaken such a dangerous journey across the stormy ocean. Many would die in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, called the Gum Shan—the Golden Hills—by the Chinamen.

  Errin walked away along the docks. He had gone but a short distance when an uproar of shouts erupted behind him. He twisted to look. The first of the Chinamen had left the inspection station and were moving up the hill street toward Portsmouth Square where most of their countrymen lived on eight to ten blocks straddling Dupont Street. They were now out from under the protective eyes of the policemen. With nothing to curb them, the white men had given vent to their anger and were hurling horse turds and pieces of wood they had scooped up from the street at the foreign men.

  One of the flying objects struck a Chinaman in the head with a sodden crunch. He fell to his knees. Two of his comrades quickly grabbed him by the arms and carried him onward with them.

  The local guide, a Chinaman in white men’s clothing, began to shout and motion with his arms for the new arrivals to move more swiftly after him. The Chinamen broke into a trot and drew away from the abusive Americans.

  * * *

  Errin gave no sign that he was aware of being followed. A young Chinaman wearing a black brocaded jacket and black pants and hat had sauntered along trailing Errin for the past half hour as he went about the city bidding on jobs for his workmen. However the sun was down now with the streets full of shadows and the Chinaman was closing the distance that separated them.

  Errin continued on toward an alley between tall brick buildings. Reaching the alley, he stepped quickly into the opening, halted, and pulled his pistol. The Chinaman’s presence meant trouble. The tongs must have discovered that Chun was with Levi and Errin.

  The seconds dragged by as Errin waited. Yet the Chinaman did not appear in the mouth of the alley. Errin waited patiently, holding his weapon.

  “Mr. Scanlan, my name is Ke,” a voice sounded from a location just out of sight around the corner of the building on the street. “I mean you no harm. I simply want to talk with you. Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you. Come out where I can see you.”

  Ke stepped into the alley. His hands were open with the palms showing. He glanced down at the pistol Errin held.

  “You don’t need your barking dog.”

  “Barking dog?”

  “Your pistol.”

  “Maybe I do. Why in hell are you following me?”

  “Honorable Lip wishes to speak with you. He has asked me to extend his humble invitation to come and talk with him about things that are important to both of you. You have heard of Scom Lip?”

  Errin examined Ke closely. He would be one of the tong fighters, a boo hao doy, or hatchetmen as Louden had called them. He seemed very young. His eyes were steady and sure, a man who knew his own strength.

  “Yes, I’ve heard of him. Why doesn’t he come and see me? He must know where my office is.”

  “He knows. But Honorable Scom Lip believes it would be so much wiser if you and he hold this conversation in some private place where there are no other white men to see or hear.”

  “What would this talk be about?”

  “I don’t know. Honorable Scom Lip will inform you himself.”

  “And if I don’t want to talk with your Honorable boss, what then?”

  Ke shrugged his shoulders. “You may decide not to speak with my boss.” Ke’s eyes narrowed as he said the word boss. “But I think that would be stupid.”

  Errin did not let the use of the word “stupid” bother him. He watched the tong warrior, trying to read him. This was the second day since Celeste had been shot and he had planned to have dinner with her. But that would have to be delayed for he had no choice except to go with Ke. He must find out how much danger Chun and Levi and even he himself were in.

  “I’ll go with you,” Errin said and shoved the pistol back into its holster. “How is it that you speak English so well?”

  Ke was silent for several seconds as if in doubt whether or not to answer Errin’s question. “I came to California several years ago as a boy, a stowaway. I studied your language, for I knew it was important to be able to talk with Americans. Because I can, now I have a treasured position with a very important man. Are you ready to go now?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “It’s best that we’re not seen together. Follow me some distance behind. It’s not very far.”

  Ke left the alley. Errin waited a half minute and then went out to the street. He saw Ke was heading for Dupont Street.

  On Beale Street they came to a huge, high-roofed building, a factory of some sort Errin thought. He saw not one sign of activity, not a crack of light in any of the windows. Midway the length of the structure, Ke descended a flight of steps leading down from the sidewalk and did not re-emerge.

  Errin reached the stairwell and looked into the murky pit. It was empty so he went down. He put his hand on his pistol and knocked on the wooden door in the sunken wall of the building.

  The door jerked open. A man stood framed by a weak light emanating from some distant source behind him. He held a big-bore shotgun pointed at Errin’s stomach.

  “You’re Scanlan?” the man asked.

&nbs
p; “Yes.” Errin didn’t like the gun pointed at him and he shoved the barrel aside.

  “The Chinaman Ke said to let you in. Go straight ahead to the auction room.” The man stepped aside.

  Errin moved down a stone-walled passageway. The overhead was the floor of the building above. He could smell the sour dampness of the subterranean depths of the building. From ahead came voices distorted and undecipherable by their journey along the passageway. He came out into a lighted room of a very large size.

  The floor of the room was of wood and the walls and ceiling paneled with the same material. Four chandeliers with several gaslights on each brightly illuminated the space. A low, half circular stage took up one end of the room. A black curtain was drawn closed, hiding whatever might be on the stage behind. Two dozen or so chairs were arranged facing and close to the stage. Nearly every chair was occupied by a well-dressed man. Ke sat on the extreme left side.

  Errin continued on into the room just as the black curtain swept open. A young Chinese girl, thin and delicate and very beautiful stood with downcast eyes on a raised dais in the center of the stage. She was clothed in a sleeveless, green gown that clung to the young female contours of her body. Her pale ivory skin, contrasted against the green of the gown, seemed almost luminescent.

  An older Chinaman with a sparse goatee was at the girl’s side. He bowed to the seated men below the stage. With their eyes locked on the girl, not one of them saw his bow.

  “I am Quan Ing, gentlemen,” said the Chinaman. “You know the rules of the sale, but I will repeat them. There should be no noise or signals except from those men bidding. The initial bid must be at least one thousand dollars. The minimum bid thereafter is one hundred dollars. Of course, there is no upper limit.” He smiled.

  “Now look closely at this lovely girl. She is fifteen years old and perfect in every way. She is a virgin. I have a doctor’s statement to that effect.” The auctioneer extended his hand and raised the chin of the girl. The light played upon the exquisite curves and planes of her beautiful face, the flawless skin, the lustrous, long black hair.

  The girl cast one swift glance out over the assemblage of men. Her eyes touched Errin’s for a brief moment. He felt the fear that she tried to hide behind her innocent face, and sensed her drawing away from the lusting men and deeply within herself. He was sad for the little slave girl. How had she come to this secret auction ground in faraway America? Had she been taken by force or trickery and transported to this place with all the rewards for her sale going to her abductors? He hoped whoever bought her, would treat her gently.