Gold Mountain Blues (34 page)

Six Fingers heard a movement and turned around. Her cry of alarm was cut short and her mouth flooded with a salty taste. She tried to scream but the sound died in her throat as if muffled in cotton wool. Someone had gagged her with a smelly sock. Much later, when she thought back to that day, she realized that what she had shouted was “Mak Dau!”

Ah-Chu was the first to realize that Six Fingers and Kam Ho had disappeared. She looked around to see where they had got to, and saw three burly black-clad figures running away with two bundles on their backs. They looked like three giant bats flitting away along the field bank, but from the bottom of one bundle an embroidered shoe could be seen, twisting and kicking.

“They've been kid … kidnapped!” Ah-Chu's lips trembled so much she could scarcely get the words out.

Mak Dau, who had been snoozing on the rock in his vest and trousers, was on his feet in an instant and streaking after them. When she recounted the story afterwards, Ah-Chu would swear that Mak Dau's legs took leave of his body that day and simply took off after the bandits on their own. Mak Dau had almost caught up with them when he suddenly remembered the freshly sharpened knife that he had hastily stuck into his waistband that morning. He touched it to the jacket of the black-clad figure next to him and the man sagged like a half-full sack of potatoes. As he fell, he grasped Mak Dau tightly round the ankle. Dragging this heavy sack of potatoes, Mak Dau ran on but more slowly than before and could only
stare after the two figures as they disappeared into the distance with Six Fingers and Kam Ho.

Mak Dau dragged the injured bandit back to the house. He tortured the bandit's name out of him: Kam Mo Keung. He was a stooge for the outlaw Chu Sei. Chu Sei and his band had gone into hiding in the area, and were making forays out to kidnap and rob, especially from the families of Gold Mountain men. His ransoms were high and he did not negotiate. He was a cruel man.

When Mrs. Mak heard this her eyes darkened and she fainted. Ah-Choi managed to bring her round with a glass of pepper water, but she could not stand. “We should tell the local officials,” said Ha Kau. “At least we've got Kam Mo Keung in our hands.” “Kam Mo Keung's just small fry,” said Mak Dau. “Chu Sei doesn't give a shit about him. He could die a hundred times but he still wouldn't be worth what Chu Sei can get for the Missus and the young master. We've got to be quick and get the ransom together.”

“How much?” asked Mrs. Mak. “Anything less than five hundred dollars and you won't see your young master again,” said Kam Mo Keung. “Chu Sei's never accepted anything less than that. He doesn't normally bother to kidnap women. Women are worth nothing, because most families won't bother to buy them back. Six Fingers only got bundled away with her son because she cried for help.”

Mrs. Mak ground her teeth and fainted again. They carried her into her room and Ha Kau went to speak with Ah-Fat's uncle and aunt. But the pair hummed and hawed so indecisively that Ha Kau had no option but to turn to Mak Dau. Between them they arranged to sell off the family fields.

Forced to sell in haste, they had to accept the derisory amounts they were offered. It was not enough. They made Ah-Fat's uncle and aunt sell some jewellery, and finally bundled up all the money and prepared to ransom Six Fingers and Kam Ho.

Mak Dau went with Kam Mo Keung. “You'll have to leave any weapons behind when you see Chu Sei,” said Kam. “Before they let you into the stockade, they'll search you from the hairs on your head to the soles of your feet. If they find anything, they'll have your head off on the spot.” Mak Dau squatted down without a word and smoked half a pipe. After a few moments, he pulled Ha Kau to one side. “Go and buy some firecrackers
from the village store, the more the merrier,” he said. “Are you mad? The sky's falling in and you want to mess around with firecrackers?” “You listen to me, Ha Kau. Wrap them up good and tight and put them in the pigpen. And whatever you do, don't let anyone see you.”

Ha Kau did as he was told and threw the bundle into the pigpen. Mak Dau went into the pen. “Watch the door and don't let anyone in,” he told Ha Kau. A little while later, he came out with his pipe in his hand. Ha Kau went in behind him to have a look. The ground was littered with scraps of red paper, but he had not heard any firecrackers go off. “What kind of a prank is this?” he said. Mak Dau held up the pipe. “They're all in here, all your firecrackers,” he said. “I can't be sure of blowing up the whole stockade and everyone in it, but I can guarantee I'll get one or two.” Ha Kau went pale. “You … you … you trying to get yourself killed?” he stuttered. “Your mum gave you to me to look after and I've got to give you back to her in one piece.” Mak Dau laughed. “Don't worry, Uncle, I'm going to bring the Missus and the young master home. If I die, how'll they get back?”

Mak Dau set off at dusk. No one dared go to sleep. They lit a votary lamp and waited. In the dead of night one day later, a bedraggled Mak Dau came into the courtyard carrying a dark bundle on his back. They peered at it; it was the Missus. Her hair had come loose and dark masses of it cascaded down her back, enshrouding her body. Mak Dau put her down and she sagged to the ground. Kam Shan threw himself on her, grabbed the front of her jacket and shook her. The distraught family burst into sobs.

After a while, a dusty ball of a figure tumbled in—it was Kam Ho. Mrs. Mak enfolded him so tightly in her arms that her long pale fingernails gouged deep dents in his flesh. Ah-Choi brought out a bowl of rice gruel; only when Six Fingers and Kam Ho had both drunk a little did she allow herself a little sigh of relief. Six Fingers got to her feet and stumbled a few paces to Mrs. Mak. Kneeling before her, she cried, “Mum!” Mrs. Mak's eyes stared sightlessly at her but the old woman said nothing. Six Fingers kowtowed three times before her. “I've been an undutiful daughter-in-law. I've caused you such a lot of distress.”

Mrs. Mak grunted. “Would I make so bold as to fret about you? Since the day you married into the Fong family, have I had any control over where you went or what you felt? You go where you want; you do what you
want to do. Ah-Fat spoils you and you just run rings around me. If you'd listened to me that day, if you hadn't insisted on going to see that devil-play at that school run by foreign devils, none of this would have happened. Every cent Ah-Fat's worked so hard to earn these last twenty years in Gold Mountain, all the land we've bought with that money, it's all gone because of you. You've cost my son dear, you have.”

Six Fingers had nothing to say to that. The iron had entered Mrs. Mak's soul all those years ago, when Ah-Fat had broken off his engagement to his betrothed and married Six Fingers instead. She now knew the bitterness still festered. Mak Dau felt for his pipe and went to light it. “You want to die?” shouted Ha Kau, grabbing it from him. Mak Dau froze for an instant, then smiled. “This is another pipe,” he said, lighting it and taking a couple of leisurely puffs. Then he said: “Don't get angry, old Missus. You know, Chu Sei has had his eye on our family for a long time. Even if the young Missus had stayed at home every day to look after both the young masters, he would have come knocking.”

Mak Dau's teeth lit up the whole room, but sadly Mrs. Mak could not see it. She shouted furiously: “And who might you be? Who gave you the right to speak in the Fong family?” And she hurled her walking stick blindly at him. Mak Dau easily dodged the stick, which hit one of the pillars and snapped in two. There was dead silence, not a cheep or a rustle to be heard. Even the banyan leaves were still. Everyone knew that Mrs. Mak was strict, but they had never seen her humiliate the young Missus in public or beat a servant with a stick.

After a moment, Kam Shan knelt down in front of his grandmother: “Please don't be angry, Granny. Mum and Kam Ho are back safe and sound now. When I'm big, I'll buy back the fields for you, and we'll have even more than before.”

Mrs. Mak allowed his words to touch her heart. Her eyes moistened and, wiping them with the front of her jacket, she sighed. “Take Six Fingers and Kam Ho to their rooms,” she told Ah-Choi. “Wipe them down and give them some lotus-seed soup. They shouldn't eat till they've had the soup. People who've gone without food for a long time mustn't eat solids straightaway.”

When everyone had left, Mrs. Mak called to Ah-Choi. “From now on, you keep an eye on her for me. You report to me if she wants to go out.” Then she added: “That Mak Dau, he's more use than your husband. You keep a good lookout for a suitable woman servant. They can marry and then he can stay with the family.” “Yes, Missus,” said Ah-Choi. She was about to go, when Mrs. Mak coughed, and said a few words in a low voice into her ear: “I want you to take a good look and see if she's got
any
injuries.” Ah-Choi looked blankly at her, and then finally caught on. “Yes, Missus.”

For a couple of weeks afterwards, Mrs. Mak kept to her room, burned incense and prayed to the Buddha. Every corner of every courtyard echoed to the rhythmic striking of the wooden fish as Mrs. Mak intoned her prayers.

One morning, Ah-Choi came into the room just as Mrs. Mak was kneeling to kowtow before the yellowing portrait of her husband on the wall. “She … she.…” she began. Ah-Choi was a woman who flustered easily, and when that happened, she stammered. Mrs. Mak straightened up. “What is it? Spit it out if you've got something to say.” Ah-Choi hesitated, then started again: “The young Missus, she … her … her period's come.”

Mrs. Mak clasped her hands over her heart and her body went as limp as a boned fish.

“Merciful Buddha,” she muttered to herself.

It was several months before Ah-Fat found out that Six Fingers had been kidnapped. He heard it from some of the men who had gone to visit their folks back home. He wrote to his wife straightaway:

My dear Ah-Yin,

I suppose you did not tell me about this grave family event because you did not want to worry me. I have now decided to build a fortified
diulau
for you to live in so you will be protected from bandits. I have got an architect to draw up plans based on the instructions I gave him. I will buy all the materials here in Vancouver and in a few days will dispatch them home via Hong Kong. The Sincere Company from Canton will contract the builders to do the work. They have agents here and have worked with Canadian firms for some years, so I know they are completely honest. I will manage the funding myself. However I cannot afford the passage home to oversee the work so Mak Dau and Ha Kau must supervise it very carefully. Please tell Mum that I am sorry not to be able to come home for her sixtieth birthday as a dutiful son should. Have you any definite news on when Kam Shan's boat sails? I await his arrival eagerly. Do not send Kam Ho to school any more, in case any further accidents should befall him. Look for a suitable teacher who can teach him at home. Ask Mak Dau to find servants who can handle weapons, buy some Western and Chinese arms and keep the front gate guarded. Please take very good care, wife, and do not go out without taking men as bodyguards. I mean this most seriously.

Your husband, Tak Fat, the twenty-seventh day of the seventh month, 1910, Vancouver, Canada

Year one of the Republic (1912)

Spur-On Village, Hoi Ping County, Guangdong Province, China

As she dressed, Six Fingers realized she had put on weight. She had had her jacket made the previous autumn and now she could hardly get the buttons done up. The fabric cut into the flesh under her armpits and over her belly when she bent down. She knew it was because she had taken little exercise lately. Mrs. Mak had kept a close eye on her since the kidnapping two years before. Even though they had hired half a dozen strapping bodyguards to protect Six Fingers and Kam Ho round the clock, Mrs. Mak would not allow Six Fingers to take a step out of the house. Since she could not go out, Six Fingers shut herself in her room and practised her calligraphy and painting. Both, she felt, had markedly improved.

Six Fingers opened the window and heard Kam Ho reciting his morning lessons in the reception hall. A new teacher had just been engaged.

As for the way autumn takes shape, in colour it is bleak, the fog lifts and clouds begin to dissipate; the atmosphere is fresh and clear, with the sky high above and sunlight crystalline. The weather becomes cool, chilling men to the bone; it conveys desolation, amidst deserted mountains and rivers. Thus as it produces sound it is chilly and cutting, crying out in great anger. When luxuriant grasses are bright green they struggle to stand out; when the beautiful trees are lush it is easy to enjoy them. But as the grasses meet autumn their colour changes, and as the trees meet autumn they shed their leaves. The reason for this destruction and falling is the excess harshness of all its breath.

Six Fingers leaned against the window listening quietly. It sounded familiar. Maybe as a child she had learned the text in class with her nephew, young Loong. Wasn't it from the “Rhapsody on Autumn Sounds” by the Song dynasty poet Ouyang Xiu? She should ask Kam Ho when he finished his class.