Dr. Lao-Hong turned to Master Ah Chung and nodded. That gentleman drew back the curtain to reveal not a doorway, but an alcove housing what I took to be a shrine. I had seen others like it before. Every village had a shrine dedicated to prosperity, peace, and domestic felicity. Almost every house had smaller but similar shrines dedicated to household deities and ancestors. But this shrine was slightly different insofar as, at its center, there was a shallow, two-door wooden cabinet covered in ornate Chinese calligraphy. I noticed that the cabinet was secured with a small brass lock. Dr. Lao-Hong must have noticed my bewilderment, for he nodded again to Master Ah Chung, who in turn lit tapers on either side of the altar, clapped twice ceremonially, and unlocked the cabinet. Then he opened both doors and stood aside so I could get a better view of its contents. The astonishment on my face must have been palpable, for there in the muted light of the tapers I saw the stone tablet and the jade seal. The artifacts had obviously been meticulously cleaned and polished so that they shimmered like jewels in the candlelight. I well remember being at a loss, for I attempted a response that came out as a stutter.
“But . . . but . . . but how did you come by these artifacts, Doctor? Mr. O’Flynn expressly told me that he was going to hide the stone and the seal where no one could find them until he was ready to disclose the location.”
Dr. Lao-Hong smiled once more and nodded. “And so he did, Professor Gilbert. He brought them to Master Ah Chung for safekeeping, and I assure you he was handsomely rewarded for his fidelity. You see, Mr. O’Flynn is respected by our community, and accepted into our homes as a faithful friend.”
I was stunned. “But he was the one who was seen setting the fire that destroyed the whole village. How can you count such a villain as a friend? Besides, what’s so significant about these artifacts that they should inspire such clandestine dealings? Surely they can do no harm in and of themselves.”
Dr. Lao-Hong took on a contemplative expression, as though weighing his alternatives. “I hope you will forgive the impertinence, Professor, but you are quite wrong. But to satisfy your justifiable curiosity, I shall answer your second question first, if that’s agreeable.”
“Any explanation would be most appreciated, Doctor. I fell into these present circumstances quite by accident, and would be most grateful for any information that would set my mind at rest.”
The doctor nodded. “Well, sir, under the reign of the third Ming emperor, Zhu Di, a great fleet of massive ships was commissioned to explore the known world and bring back ambassadors from those far lands to serve the emperor’s court. Now, you must understand that many of these great ships were over four hundred and eighty feet long, the largest sailing ships in the world at the time, and were powered by as many as twelve sail-crowded masts, and crewed by thousands of sailors, soldiers, and diplomats. The grand admiral of this tremendous expedition, which consisted of over two hundred and fifty vessels of every variety, was the renowned Zheng He, a man of remarkable talents and industry. Zheng He accepted the commission and set about accomplishing his master’s designs. At some point during that extended journey, Admiral Zheng He divided his fleet into separate squadrons and sent one of his vice admirals, Zhou Man, to explore the lands in the far eastern Pacific. To that end, and as far as we can tell, he sailed south to north along the coasts of the Americas and possibly set up small exploratory enclaves along the way.
“At some time during that journey, approximately June 1422 by your Western calendar, Admiral Zhou Man’s squadron anchored in Monterey Bay. We now believe, evidenced by the inscriptions on the stone tablet, that he must have landed and set up camp at a place that is presently known to you as Cypress Point. Indeed, you might like to know in passing that the Monterey cypress trees that the locals are so proud of are in fact not indigenous to this place, but instead come from the coasts of southern China. It has long been the custom of Chinese sailors to plant trees native only to China in places where they could be seen as recognizable landmarks for those who followed. The stone tablet records just such an endeavor. The plaque was then buried, along with the seal, under the cypress saplings to mark the importance of the place as one that owed its allegiance to the benevolence of Emperor Zhu Di.”
To say the least, I was enthralled and astounded by all I was hearing. “But, Doctor,” I said, “how can you be so sure of these facts? As far as I know, there isn’t the least mention of such an occurrence in local Indian traditions.”
“I’m well aware of that, Professor. The jade seal belongs to Admiral Zhou Man. It affirms his rank and authority and carries his personal chop. And who is to say whether some Chinese sailors left on these shores did not intermarry with the local inhabitants? You must admit that the indigenous Indian populations along the coast of California look a great deal more Chinese than they do Spanish. Wouldn’t you agree?”
That interesting fact had never really occurred to me, and in lieu of a pointed response I just nodded. Then a question popped into my head. “But if that were indeed the case, Doctor, why keep such an important piece of historical information secret? These revelations could change our whole view of history. As a teacher and scholar, I could no more suppress such information than I could suppress a newly proved truth about science.”
Dr. Lao-Hong barely held a laugh in check and then apologized for any offense. “You must forgive me, Professor, but would you truthfully say that we Chinese in California are accepted as anything more than cheap labor? Would you say that, like other European minorities, any serious efforts have been expended to help us assimilate as equals, or that our contributions to society are respected in any way beyond that already accorded us as peasant laborers who dig for your railroads, work your mines, do your laundry, and demean ourselves as household servants? In truth, wouldn’t you go so far as to say that we Chinese are viewed as little more than an inconvenient necessity, and that most white people might wish us to depart if it weren’t for the fact that very few occidentals could carry on with business as usual without our labors?”
I nodded modestly, and he continued. “And what of your Spanish and Mexican compatriots, the people who settled this coast before a greedy and shameful war tore their possessions from them? Are they treated as honored equals? Don’t bother to answer, Professor, for we both know the answer. And in that vein, let us suppose that a modern-day Hernando de Alarcόn did sail into Monterey Bay and marched ashore with banners flying and made territorial claims based on prior discovery and occupation. Just what kind of a reception do you imagine he would receive? You need not respond to that either.”
I was having difficulty following the relevance of the doctor’s contentions and said as much as politely as I could.
“Well, Professor, perhaps we should look at the question from another perspective. Just imagine what people would do if they even suspected that we poor Chinese held a prior claim, albeit distant in time, to the West Coast of America and beyond; how do you imagine we would be treated then? We already live under a cloak of cultural and racial suspicion. What would our taskmasters do if they thought for one moment that we might one day register a prior claim to their land? Of course, these are but rhetorical questions, since it is our intention to send these voices from the past back to China as soon as proper arrangements can be made. In that way our brilliant maritime exploits shall be maintained, albeit in silence, without giving offense, or causing undue suspicion and cultural paranoia. We believe this to be the best feasible solution for all concerned.”
I must confess to the fact that, all things being taken at face value, at this stage of our conversation I felt myself the target of a thinly veiled manipulation that bordered on threat. I confess that it made me slightly angry, but I kept it to myself as much as possible.
“But, Doctor,” I said, “unless you propose to take them from me by force, I still have the rubbings and photographs as proof of the existence of these artifacts.”
“My dear professor, no one here would think of depriving you of your pr
operty. But on the other hand, you must admit, as a scientist, that without the original artifacts your evidence would hardly influence matters one way or another, as such things are easily forged. Indeed, forgeries are hardly a rarity in any culture. They are usually created to dupe the faithful, fleece the gullible, and influence the wealthy. After all, if one assembled all the bones of all the known saints that now reside in treasured reliquaries in Catholic churches all over Christendom, you’d certainly have more bones than saints.” Then he said, “You are welcome to publish your findings once you’ve made your own translations, but just who do you imagine would put their reputations on the block to defend your flimsy paper evidence? How many Western scholars of Chinese culture are there who might defend your premise, and how many of those scholars can translate antiquated Persian or Tamil? For I tell you, Professor, that this plaque, like the Rosetta stone, makes the same claims in all three languages, which means that all three cultural groups were involved in these voyages. So who of those chosen scholars, Western in the main, would believe that these diverse cultures were all in nominal service of Imperial Emperor Zhu Di and sailed as trusted colleagues in his treasure fleets? Not that I mean to belittle your position, Professor, but you are a teacher of marine biology at a small Western university. Thus it is my qualified opinion that your information will never see the light of serious academic inquiry.”
I found myself racked between the wheels of frustration and anger. Frustration at the knowledge that Dr. Lao-Hong was correct in his assumption, and anger at Mr. O’Flynn for not taking me into his confidence about his relationship with the Chinese. There remained only a profound sense of disappointment. Whether or not the treasure came within my field of study made little difference to me. I had come across an extraordinary piece of history. I had touched the evidence, duplicated the text with rubbings, and even photographed the stones from all angles, and yet it seemed I was to have no part in sharing the information with the world without putting my reputation as a teacher in some jeopardy. And if the very Chinese concerned in the case insist on denying the veracity of my evidence, I’m left standing in quicksand. The sensation made me very angry, and in a fit of pique I mentioned O’Flynn’s involvement in the arson.
Master Ah Chung interjected by saying that Mr. O’Flynn had only done what he had been asked to do. My look of surprise must have been more than obvious.
Dr. Lao-Hong explained that Mr. O’Flynn had early on informed the elders at China Point that there was a plot in hand to drive the Chinese from the village in spite of their ironclad lease with the Pacific development company. This plot was covertly seconded by the Southern Pacific Railroad, which intended to construct an extended railroad line down the shore, and then engage excursion trains so that tourists might enjoy the beautiful sights. And by all means, the Chinese fishing village at China Point, with its cloying, fetid odors, was judged neither a salubrious nor desirable experience for their paying passengers.
Dr. Lao-Hong went on to elucidate. “These powerful interests conceived a diabolical plot to drive the Chinese fishing families from their holdings with an allegedly accidental conflagration. When the local tong elders learned of their plans from Mr. O’Flynn, they decided on their own response. Knowing they would most likely lose everything without apt and timely preparation, they sent a Caucasian emissary to San Jose to purchase fire insurance to cover any losses at China Point. And just whom would you think we got to insure the property? I’ll save you the speculation by saying that it was the Southern Pacific Railroad. They very conveniently maintain their own public insurance company, and since the right hand had little notion of what the left was doing, an insurance policy for ten thousand dollars was drawn up in the name of the tong at China Point against any community losses from fire. Then the tong very secretly arranged to have all the inhabitants of the village pack up their most precious possessions to be removed to a place of safety at Point Alones, leaving behind only those items, like stoves or ovens, that could not be removed without drawing suspicion. Most all the boats, nets, and fishing gear were moved to the south end of the beach below the village, where the flames of the fire could not possibly reach them. Only the older boats and nets were left to burn. When Mr. O’Flynn came to us and said that he had heard reliable rumors that something untoward would soon take place, we set our plans in motion. On the appointed evening our brave friend Mr. O’Flynn secretly returned to town and set the barn aflame as was arranged. The tong elders, of course, notified the villagers what to expect and when, which is why there were no injuries or fatalities as a result of the fire.”
To say the least, this information rocked me back on my heels. I asked Dr. Lao-Hong where Mr. O’Flynn was now, but he said that information could not be divulged. O’Flynn had protected them at the risk of his freedom, and they would do no less for him. He was in a place of safety and future prosperity. “Besides, Professor Gilbert, if they can’t find the alleged perpetrator and coax a confession, then nothing can be proved either way, and the onus of responsibility remains an open question.”
“But Mr. O’Flynn is already under suspicion. He was witnessed setting the fire by a group of soldiers. Even Sheriff Nesbitt thinks he is the arsonist, which goes a long way toward putting a cap on the matter.”
Dr. Lao-Hong smiled in the most inscrutable manner. “I have no doubt of what you say, Professor, but Mr. O’Flynn was first and foremost a railroad man. He had worked for the Southern Pacific for years before his injuries, and the infidelity of his masters forced him out with a tawdry pittance. Knowing that, where do you think the most suspicion would be aimed? Perhaps one might argue that the Pacific Improvement Company and the railroad made him an offer that impending penury obliged him to accept. Who can say? We believe the question should be left to the courts. Don’t you agree? But either way, Mr. O’Flynn will not be present to stand in the dock to take the blame or point fingers. So the question of responsibility will remain a mystery for quite some time, and indeed may never be resolved to anyone’s satisfaction, which is perhaps as it should be.”
“But what about the villagers and their homes?”
“That was also seen to. In preparation for the impending destruction, the tong arranged to take an extended lease on some property over on McAbee Beach in Monterey. The fishermen were back on the bay three days after the fire, and the villagers will soon replace everything they lost, thanks to the prompt attention of the Southern Pacific Insurance Company, which under the circumstances could find no reason to disavow the claim. They were mired in their own machinations with nowhere to turn. They will drag their feet, no doubt, but they’ll pay up in the end unless they wish to see their Chinese labor force go on strike. It was all very well thought out, I assure you.”
Here I found a chink in the doctor’s reasoning. “But, if secrecy was so paramount, why have you told me all this? What prevents me from taking what information I have to the authorities?”
“Because, Professor, you are an honest and empathetic man, and were once a friend of our Mr. O’Flynn. You also know about the seal and the stone. But you are also a highly intelligent man and aware, I’m sure, that without absolute proof, your hearsay testimony would be scorned as improbable, if not altogether ridiculous. And I’m quite sure you’ll agree that neither the Pacific Improvement Company nor the Southern Pacific Railroad will acknowledge that any such plot to burn us out ever existed. But if, however, you did choose to take such an action, the tong would vehemently deny all knowledge of Mr. O’Flynn, of you, and this meeting, to say nothing of the artifacts you claim to have examined and copied. For I assure you, Professor, no American will ever lay eyes on those treasures again.”
I left the village at Point Alones feeling quite giddy. It was almost as though the whole situation had been conjured in a murky dream and, as such, perched beyond explanation. Even to those of my contemporaries who might be willing to give me the benefit of the doubt, the lack of all corroboration would mark me as a crank or, worse
still, the victim of an elaborate hoax perpetrated by a disgruntled employee.
I slowly realized that Dr. Lao-Hong was right. Anything I might publicly say on the matter would most likely be ridiculed as pure invention or, at the very least, idle speculation. For it’s certain that the white population hereabouts would never acknowledge or believe that these supposedly ignorant and lowly Chinese could have so deftly arranged matters for their own benefit, or so thoroughly hoodwinked those who had planned their destruction.
Though I’m now sure that the chain of events will live on only in my journal, and probably go no further, I’m left with a very intriguing source of speculation. What would history have been like if that famous Chinese admiral and his great fleet, armed as they were with highly developed technology and political expertise, had stayed behind in California to protect their claims of discovery? After all, Columbus managed to make a sizable impact on history with far fewer resources and much less intelligence. But of one thing I’m now quite sure. If those medieval Spanish conquistadors, lacking as they did all enlightened self-interest, should have come upon a thoroughly entrenched Chinese presence in California, they wouldn’t have stood the remotest chance at conquest, much less trade. It’s my studied opinion that men of violence rarely indulge in honest commerce.
—Dr. Charles Gilbert
THE THORNS OF WISDOM
“No man needs more than one blade to cut his own throat.”
—CHINESE PROVERB
In The Shadow of The Cypress Page 7
