In the Shadow of the Cypress (14 page)

The young fishermen sculling the sampan were obviously proud of their strength and skill; otherwise they would not have been chosen to master the vessel. As a mark of respect for their esteemed passenger, they wore brightly embroidered skullcaps and decorated vests to offset their plain fisherman’s garb. Their long braided queues were handsomely dressed and oiled so that they reflected the moonlight. Dr. Lao-Hong felt a pang of pride for his sturdy countrymen as they deftly sculled the sampan out into the middle of the drifting fleet of waiting boats.

As if they’d been awaiting only his arrival, just as Master Ah Chung’s sampan came abreast of the fleet, the whole flotilla lit their heavy wire fire-baskets, which were then suspended over the sides of the boats on poles to attract the rising squid. Within a few minutes the fishermen’s barbed lures, which were sent down six and eight to the line, were drawing up multiple amorous squid per lure. The fishermen pulled the angry squid from the barbs and tossed them into wicker baskets. After a short while the sampan’s bailer-boys were scooping squid-ink-stained bilge water over the thwarts until the little swells about the boats turned from gray-green to jet-black. But still the squid kept coming by the hundreds.

Dr. Lao-Hong found himself totally intrigued by the sights and sounds around him. Between the moon and the fire baskets, there was enough light to make out every detail of the fishermen’s activities. The bounty of the harvest gladdened the
men’s hearts, and they happily called out to one another, making jokes and laughing like children at a dragon dance. Some men sang at their labors, and others chanted simple prayers of gratitude.

After a while Master Ah Chung had his sampan moved closer to one of the boats. The old man in the bow called out something, and in return a nearby fisherman tossed him a half dozen small squid. With practiced expertise, the old man caught them one at a time in a small handbasket. Within moments he had the catch cleaned, skinned, and washed. Then he dropped the squid into a crock of seasoning to rest while he prepared the grill over the clay oven and fanned the charcoal to life.

Master Ah Chung told the doctor the squid were now happily resting in a bath of rice wine, fresh ginger, green onions, soy, and toasted sesame oil. They both watched in fascination as their cook went about his business with simple precision, sitting cross-legged in the bottom of the bow. Everything he might need was within reach, and he could easily wash his utensils over either side. The small clay oven had two handles to make it more portable, but it was also handy in case it became necessary, from the threat of fire, to heave the oven overboard. A stout cord tied through the handles secured the doused oven, so it might be retrieved and reused if it hadn’t shattered with the temperature difference.

Dr. Lao-Hong turned to Master Ah Chung and said he thought fishing, though obviously rewarding, must be a very dangerous business indeed. He asked if they lost boats and crews on occasion. Master Ah Chung thought the question odd, and possibly a little inauspicious under the circumstances, but he indulged the landsman and answered in such a way as not to anger the spirits of the dead. He said that for more than five
hundred generations his people had been the finest fishermen and sailors in China. There were men and women in this very fleet who could proudly name ancestors who served under great Imperial admirals. Over the centuries those brave seamen had tasted the waves of every ocean and sea in the known world. Master Ah Chung paused. Then he spoke in a lowered voice and said that over the centuries there had been quite a few unlucky souls who had gone to their venerable ancestors by virtue of their trade, for as his guest had so aptly pointed out, working on water was a dangerous business.

Dr. Lao-Hong took the hint and said no more. He instantly perceived that discussing such matters while engaging in the practice at hand was obviously considered unlucky, or at the very least insensitive. He immediately attempted to apologize for his rudeness, but Master Ah Chung quickly interjected that he was quite sure no offense was intended or taken.

Still, though he kept it to himself, the thought of drowned ships began to unsettle the doctor’s thoughts. The Three Corporations had lost a very valuable cargo in that manner only the year before. And though the goods were fully insured, the loss of so many lives was considered very bad joss indeed.

Master Ah Chung tapped the doctor’s knee and pointed to the bow. The old man had begun to prepare the smaller squid, tentacles and all, over the hot grill. Every few moments he would turn them over with chopsticks to avoid scorching. Soon the squid began to make gentle sizzling sounds, and the tentacles began to curl as they cooked. The aroma that drifted back along the boat was truly intoxicating, and even the men sculling the sweeps began to make appreciative comments and nods. The doctor watched as the cook reached into a round bamboo container and withdrew generous portions of precooked, sweet
sticky rice. These he formed into thick, round patties, which he seasoned with red pepper flakes. Then, using a small brush made of goose feathers, he coated the rice cakes with a light sheen of sesame oil and placed them gently on the edge of the grill to toast. They too began to sizzle away; the second piquant aroma only enhanced the first. The doctor began to salivate with anticipation and, as if reading his thoughts, the old man poured out two cups of black tea from a small cast-iron kettle. He passed these back to his passengers, and they were accepted with thanks.

The doctor watched as the cook, who had the dexterity of an accomplished street vendor, rolled two wide cones from butcher paper. They held their shape by folding over the narrow bottoms. He set these into a little stand that had two wide holes cut out to cradle the paper cones. After making sure the rice cakes were nicely browned and crisp on both sides, he placed one in each cone. The cook topped the affair by slicing two perfectly grilled squid into manageable pieces and placing them over the rice cakes. As a final touch, he sprinkled just a bit of rice wine vinegar over his creation. He retrieved two sets of chopsticks from a lacquer box kept for that purpose, placed a set into each cone in a decorative V, and then passed the whole stand back to Master Ah Chung with a slight bow of the head. Master Ah Chung returned the salute and then offered his guest the first choice. Dr. Lao-Hong took up the nearest cone and brought it close to his nose. Perhaps it was the mingling of sea air with the fragrance of the food, but the good doctor was rock-sure that, aside from the jasmine-like scent of his beautiful baby daughter, he had never smelled anything quite so magnificent in all his life. With many compliments and thanks to the cook and Master Ah Chung, the doctor turned serious attention to his food. He found he was ravenous, and what was more, the
grilled squid and rice cake tasted even better than they smelled. It was only his polite modesty that prevented him from asking for more. But he needn’t have bothered, for the old man had already begun to prepare two more portions.

Soon there were good-natured calls from the hardworking fishermen in the other boats. They laughed and hailed the cook to draw his boat closer so he might grill part of their catch too. At this point the fishermen were standing up to their knees in writhing squid. They would only quit fishing when their boats could safely carry no more and still make it back to shore without sinking. Greedy fishermen had been known to lose both boat and catch by misjudging their buoyancy.

As the moon rose higher, it also grew brighter. The doctor commented that one had a sense that the goddess was almost within reach of an outstretched arm. And still the fishermen labored incessantly to draw in multiple lures clustered with animated squid of all sizes. Each line gigged approximately thirty pounds of angry squid, by Master Ah Chung’s estimation. He affirmed that with the right conditions and tides, the squids’ mating frenzy under the light of the full moon could last for up to six hours. There were literally millions upon millions of them during this season of the year. He was convinced that with the proper care taken not to overharvest, the bounty offered up in this one bay alone could last for many centuries. It most assuredly could generate profitable work and greater wealth for many, if not poached by outsiders. By this Dr. Lao-Hong naturally assumed Master Ah Chung meant non-Chinese interests. Lao-Hong began to realize that these sturdy fishermen were a very pragmatic and conservative class in the main, and he deduced that their elders would be even more so, which gave him steep odds on failure.

As the fleet neared capacity, a small gong sounded from one
of the boats. The last turbulent lines of writhing squid were hauled aboard and the boats, now burdened to the gunwales with their harvest, doused their fire-baskets in the water and turned their bows toward shore.

But that was not the end of it. Work would not stop until the villagers had set out the complete catch to dry on raised racks, big rocks, or any other flat surface available. It would take all hands many hours of constant labor. The smaller children were given light bamboo poles with small red flags tied to the ends. The flags had big predatory eyes painted on them in black ink. Thus armed, the children were employed to run around the drying racks and chase away the always voracious and devious seagulls. This labor was an absolute necessity, but the children had transformed it into a wonderful game, and one inspiring the formation of teams, the election of captains, and the constant invention of cunning tactics slated to defeat and humiliate their ravenous avian adversaries.

Because it was lighter and swifter, Master Ah Chung’s boat reached the shore first. The doctor even lent a shoulder to the job of pushing the vessel over crude rollers up onto the dry beach above the tide line. Once everything was secure, the doctor presented the two boatmen and the old cook with a ceremonial gift of five silver dollars each for their efforts and time.

Even though it was past midnight, Dr. Lao-Hong insisted that he wasn’t tired. He asked his host’s permission to stay on for a while and watch the boats unload their catches. The doctor said he wished to indulge a clinical curiosity, for he wanted to get some sense of the size of their harvest in one night.

Master Ah Chung pointed to a small, three-walled noodle shop not far away. He said it stayed open at night to serve the returning fishermen, who were always hungry after a hard night
of working their backs into knots. He said they could watch the whole process from up there while enjoying a bowl of grilled fish and noodles, and be in no one’s way. He added that old Mrs. Chu Yung and her husband, the proprietors of the noodle shop, also owned two of the fishing boats. On nights when the catch was good, they were very generous with their noodles and their rice wine.

Dr. Lao-Hong insisted on playing host this time, and so purchased two steaming bowls of fresh-made noodles with steamed mussels, sea urchins, and green onions, and a small jug of rice wine to wash it down. Then the doctor and Master Ah Chung found a place on a bench made of driftwood overlooking the beach. They sat down to enjoy their food and watch the procedures yet to come.

When the heavily laden boats were still fifty yards offshore, a gong was sounded somewhere in the village, and suddenly people began to appear from everywhere. One of the first to arrive was an old man carrying an iron tripod that he set down in the sand. Within seconds he had a bright little bonfire going. Some of the villagers who followed carried torches mounted on bamboo poles, or small fire-baskets lofted the same way. These they set alight at the tripod, and then drove them into the sand to illuminate the beach. In no time at all, the whole scene took on a very festive air, but the torches were there only to ease a long night of hard labor.

The approaching fleet was too deeply burdened and low in the water to beach, so they secured themselves to the shore with long ropes. A third gong sounded, and suddenly every man, woman, and child in the village strong enough to shoulder forty pounds of squid came down to the shore carrying broad, shallow baskets. They walked out through the shallow surf to the
awaiting boats to exchange their empty baskets for ones full of squid, which they either shouldered or carried on their heads, back up the beach to the drying yards. The operation soon settled down to an efficient train of people coming and going.

As the boats unloaded their cargos, they rose higher in the water, and were then drawn closer onto the beach to ease the labor of off-loading. When the work was well under way, the boat captains released parts of their crews to refresh themselves. These men came up to the noodle shop and ordered food and hot tea.

Dr. Lao-Hong was slightly amused to notice that the fishermen, who normally rolled their pants up above their knees when they were fishing, were all stained blue-black by squid ink from the waist down. As tired as they were, the abundant harvest of squid had put them in a good mood, and they laughed and joked as they ate. When they had finished their noodles and tea, they returned to their work, and another batch of men were released to do the same.

It was now approaching two thirty in the morning according to the doctor’s watch, and he began to feel the exertions of the day. The work on the beach had continued without letup for two hours, and still the boats were unloading squid. Master Ah Chung suggested that perhaps it was time to take the doctor back to Lady Yee’s house. There might be a verdict from the elders at any time, and Master Ah Chung believed his guest should be rested enough to keep his wits sharp for the coming interview. The doctor agreed, but before following his host through the village to retrieve the buggy, he purchased a basket of fingerling squid, always considered a great delicacy, as a present for his generous hostess.

Once he was back at Lady Yee’s home, a sleepy-eyed houseboy
answered the doctor’s gentle knock. The houseboy took the basket and gave the doctor a lamp to light the way to his rooms. Once there, Dr. Lao-Hong stripped off his borrowed clothes, washed himself thoroughly at the commode, and then went to bed. Toward sunrise, he became entangled in the strands of a distinctly frustrating dream that focused on a disastrous but somehow predictable shipwreck, and the mountains of lost cargo set adrift across the waves. Every attempt he made to gather up the widening spread of bobbing cargo and bring it back into the wounded ship failed miserably. The dream, which he later recalled in some detail, left him feeling thwarted, angry, and incompetent.