Pirate Vishnu (A Jaya Jones Treasure Hunt Mystery) (9 page)

I turned back to the computer, trying to forget about Naveen and his symposium.

I’d made it to March of 1906. I had just pulled up a new page before Naveen arrived.

A black-and-white sketch in the scanned newspaper sparked a sense of recognition. I’d seen the man in the illustration before, hadn’t I? But where?

My heart skipped a beat as I read the headline above the image:
Pirate Vishnu Terrorizes San Francisco Bay
.

I knew why the man a witness had sketched looked familiar. I’d seen him in my mom’s family photographs. Pirate Vishnu was Uncle Anand.

Chapter 12

United States, 1903

After eight days at sea, the ship brought the group of strangers to the metropolis of the promised land that would become the new home to many of the weary travelers.

The men of New York were hard workers, which Anand respected. The weather, however, was intolerable. He did not need to see the sun every day, or feel the thirty-degree-centigrade warmth from home. But he felt as if he would surely freeze to death during the night in his boarding house that first winter. As soon as the snow was cleared, he took the railroad out west. That was how six months later he found himself in the most interesting city he’d ever encountered.

San Francisco was a new city. Before 1850, it had fewer than 1,000 residents. He heard the region used to be part of Mexico, but he didn’t see much evidence of that from the men he worked with on the docks.

It was easy for him to find work at the Potrero Hill Shipyard. They were eager to employ skilled laborers who knew their way around the underlying structure of boats -- unlike the sailors who could fasten a knot and sail a ship but knew not how the vessel was put together, or the unskilled laborers who could lift heavy equipment but not do much else.

It was weeks before he realized they were paying him far less than the men with European origins he worked next to each day.

When he realized the injustice, Anand’s jaw clenched and the muscles in his arms prepared for battle. He nearly started a bloody fight that day -- but stopped himself. He knew he was a boat builder, not a warrior. And this non-warrior Paravar was earning far more money than anywhere else he’d ever worked. It was more than enough to send some home to his family, stay in a warm boarding house, and save for his next adventure. Instead of fighting and being dismissed, he decided to let go of his anger by exploring an area of town he’d recently learned of: The Barbary Coast.

As night fell, he followed the muffled sounds of music and laughter. He didn’t mind that there were few street signs in the city. Men newly arrived from Europe shook their heads in confusion, but like the Kingdoms of Travancore and Kochi, San Francisco was an organic city that made sense without explanation.

He followed the sounds onto a street lit with electric lights. An open door beckoned.

“You don’t want to go in there, my friend,” said a voice from the shadows.

The voice startled Anand. From the hidden shadows of an alley, a young Chinese man stepped forward. Unlike the other Chinese men Anand had seen, this one wore his hair short. He also spoke flawless, unaccented English.

“Why is that, my friend?” Anand asked.

The young Chinese man took a long drag on a short cigarette before throwing the last of it onto the street.

“If you’re looking for a drink after a hard day’s work, you’ll be safer a block over.”

“Why are you here, then?” Anand asked the stranger.

“I’m not going inside.”

Anand turned up his collar as a cold wind picked up. He’d been hoping California would be warmer, but at least it didn’t snow.

“You like freezing on the street?” Anand asked. “I’ve heard of some of the strange desires of the people in this part of town. You are a masochist, perhaps?”

The Oriental man laughed. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll show you a better place. Looks like rain. That’s no good for talking to tourists when they exit the saloon.”

Anand reached for his pocket, making sure this man hadn’t picked it. The man laughed again.

“I’m not a pickpocket. I offer them--” He paused, and his voice changed when he spoke again. “I give good Chinatown tour. Secret streets, sir...Opium dens, sir.”

Anand knew many Chinese traders in Kochi, and he recognized the accent. “Your Chinese accent is a little overdone,” he commented.

“You think so?” The man was back to his American accent. “The tourists don’t notice. My Western clothing puts them at ease enough that they’ll listen. But without the Chinese accent, they don’t think I’ll know the best places to get opium, or to get the thrill of seeing a real opium den. Where are you from, my friend?”

“Not from anywhere that I need a tour of Chinatown.”

The man tipped his head before leading them across the street. They cut behind a nightclub, the sound of a woman’s beautiful voice singing a forlorn song escaping through the door.

“Welcome to the Barbary Coast,” the Oriental man said as they walked past. “I won’t even charge you for saving you from being run out of that place. I’m Li.” He pronounced it like the western name Lee. He extended his hand. “Li Fong.”

“Anand.”

“Only one name?”

Anand had met enough foreigners to know that much of the world had family names that came from their father. Anand’s caste name of Paravar served that purpose for identification once he left home, along with using his father’s name Selvam as a middle name. But he had never understood the need for more than one name.

“Don’t worry,” Li said, misinterpreting Anand’s hesitation. “We’re going somewhere the police won’t raid.”

The rain broke as they walked through a low door and under a grimy wooden sign proclaiming the establishment to be The Siren’s Anchor.

“This used to be a ship,” Li explained as they walked past a giant mast.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to build it as a building?”

Li laughed. “Where we stand today, fifty years ago was the ocean.”

“I am not as gullible as the tourists.”

“Faye,” Li called out to the woman standing behind the bar. “Tell my new friend here how The Siren’s Anchor came into existence. This is Faye’s place,” he added to Anand.

Faye was not an easy woman to characterize. Her features resembled the darker skinned women in Arabia, though her skin was fairer. Her hair was dark red with a texture he’d seen on Nubian women. She wore less clothing than a respectable woman, yet she had an air of integrity about her.

“He knows the rules of the place?” Faye asked Li.

“Good liquor, no trouble,” Li said.

“Any man –- or woman –- of any color is welcome,” Faye added. “But no prostitution allowed, and no shanghaiing.”

“None intended,” Anand said. He had heard about shanghaiing, when sailors were physically knocked out or given a knock-out drug in their drink, then carried off to a ship in need of a crew. He had thought it was a thing of the distant past –- not going on in the new century. 

“We’re standing on the old coastline,” Faye said. “Several hundred ships were abandoned right here in the late 1840s when everyone had gold fever.”

Faye paused to pour two drinks for two men who raised their empty glasses, tucking their coins into a hidden spot behind the bar.

“They abandoned their ships to head for the gold fields. When the city filled in the cove in the ’50s, the ships were used as part of the land fill. This was one of the bigger ships. Parts of it stayed above ground.”

“You are far too young for this to have been your ship,” Anand said with a grin.

“You brought me a charmer, Li,” Faye said.

“I’m Anand.”

“Anand,” Faye repeated, hesitating over the pronunciation.

“The emphasis is on the first syllable,” Anand said. “You can remember it because it starts strong, like me.”

“Faye’s father built this place,” Li said.

“Negroes weren’t permitted to be gold prospectors,” Faye said. “Worked out better that way. Most of those men didn’t find any gold and died of starvation or disease. Supplies were low, so men who started businesses during that time could charge any price they wanted.  My father built this place, and opened its doors to any man. Now it’s mine, so any woman is welcome here, too.”

Anand looked around the dark, well-kept saloon. A dozen men gathered around the bar and a few wooden tables, but there wasn’t a woman in sight. If he hadn’t known it was originally a ship, he would have assumed it was a regular building constructed to make sailors feel at home. A mirror behind the bar was made from portholes. A large anchor hung on the opposite wall, flanked by a fishing spear and a wooden ship’s wheel.

“Now,” Faye said, “what’s your poison?”

Chapter 13

“Pirate Vishnu,” I said, slapping down a printout of the page of the newspaper archive in front of Tamarind.

“Huh?” Tamarind stared into the distance beyond the glass front doors, distracted.

“You okay?” I asked, following her gaze. “You look distracted. You still hoping to catch a glimpse of Naveen?”

“There’s some kid in a dark hoodie who’s been lurking outside the doors since I’ve been back at my desk. He hasn’t come inside, but that’s a long time to be waiting for a study buddy. I thought I knew all the troublemakers, but he must be here just for summer session.”

“I don’t see him.”

“You got off track?” Tamarind said, turning her attention back to me. “I know pirates are way cool, but you’re usually more focused—”

“This,” I said, pointing at the sketch, “is Uncle Anand.”

“Shut. Up.”

“This explains how he got his hands on the treasure,” I said. “He was a pirate who stole it.”

“Wow,” Tamarind said. “Oh. My. Wow. Just
wow
.”

“A ship that originated in India came to San Francisco, where their treasure was stolen by Pirate Vishnu, AKA Uncle Anand.”

“The treasure originated in India,” Tamarind repeated. “What do you think it was?”

“I’m trying to think what it could be that fits with that timing.” I shook my head. “The ruling governance had changed from the British East India Company to the British Raj by then. There was a lot of wealth, but I don’t know about anything that was being given to America. We weren’t big players yet. Indian kings were giving gifts to Europeans, not Americans. And since the papers didn’t report further details, I’m not sure how to narrow it down.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Tamarind said. “I know how big a country India is to research.”

“It was both British trading wealth and also rich princely states that had treasures. That’s why Anand was involved in the nationalist movement—sticking up for the little guy rather than colonizers or local royalty. My mom told me that he knew the men who created the symbolic Heart of India statue before it was swept out to sea during a bad monsoon season. India is a country full of treasures like that. You must have read about the treasure hoard discovered in the Sri Padmanabhaswamy temple in Trivandrum not too long ago. There’s no shortage of possible treasures.”

“I’m trying to think about how we can narrow it down,” Tamarind said.

“I should have made him tell me what the treasure was before I would help him.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Tamarind said. “Besides, I’m the one who’s good at convincing people to tell things they don’t want to tell.” Her nose ring sparkled in the light as she smiled mischievously. “But hang on. This article doesn’t say anything about a treasure. In fact, it says his crew attacked this ship and scared the crap out of them, but then they didn’t steal anything.”

“There were four more references to Pirate Vishnu in the paper,” I said. “Three were just regurgitations of other articles and didn’t say anything new. But one mentioned another ship that was attacked. During this attack, Pirate Vishnu and his crew took the ship.”

Tamarind took the article printout from my hand, her bright red lips hanging open. “A crew member of the ship that was attacked reported a Negro man with a Chinese crew,” she summarized, “but I’m guessing that’s our guy.”

“I doubt the sailor had seen many dark-skinned people from the south of India. And it’s only a week later than the first article. The same reporter identified them as the same crew on the same ship.”

“No deaths,” Tamarind read. “They organized, attacked, and stole the entire ship, but they didn’t kill anyone, or even maim anyone. It looks like that was much to the reporter’s disappointment. His story is on the front page but below the fold.” Tamarind frowned as she finished the article. “Even though they took the ship, there’s still nothing reported about what the ship was carrying besides average trading supplies.”

“I have an idea about that,” I said. “What if he stole something that was
already stolen
?”

“Shut. Up.”

“That would explain why it wasn’t reported,” I said. The facts were falling into place. I’d need more evidence to be sure, but I felt like I was finally onto something.

“You are
the man
, Jaya.”

“Look at the facts here,” I said. “On their first try, they attacked the wrong ship. That’s why they didn’t care at all about that ship and abandoned it.”

“They were after something specific,” Tamarind said.

“But what was it they stole?”

Tamarind grinned at me. “I have something to inspire you.” She snuck behind her desk and reappeared a few seconds later. She handed me a sticker of a pirate flag—the skull and crossbones.

“I got this to put on my phone,” she said. “But I think it’s more appropriate for you to have today.”

My stomach rumbled as I put the sticker in my back pocket.