Captain Hammond agreed in the main, but he knew that arrangements would have to be made to accommodate the beached survivors, as well as the rest of the crew when they came ashore. It was obvious to almost everyone now that only a qualified salvage company could pull the spiked ship off the rocks without sinking her, and this would not require the services of the present crew. The accident would most likely cost the shipping company an appreciable fortune in salvage, lost revenue, damage claims from shippers and individual victims, and so forth. It was a certainty that whether the captain was at fault or not, his company would hardly be anxious to give him another ship until after an exhaustive investigation had determined the cause of this grounding, so in effect, he would be beached as well, perhaps for a short while, perhaps forever.
Captain Hammond borrowed a storm lantern and used a provisions crate as a desk. Kneeling in the sand under the whipping canvas, he wrote out a short report for the harbormaster, Mr. Campion, and numbered the casualties and survivors for whom shelter and rations would have to be found. He appraised the present condition of the ship as salvageable, barring further disasters, and the well-being of those remaining on board the ship good, barring the same. He stated that he would send the first wagonloads of survivors to town only after the storm had moved inland. He surmised correctly that the roads would be in very poor condition, washed out in critical places and generously littered with broken trees and other debris. It might take two days or longer to travel only ten miles, and a road crew with a four-mule team and a bucksaw squad would most likely have to clear the way first. The captain's only material request was to have a further supply of food and fresh water sent to Point Lobos by mule train if possible. He was sure the roads would no longer be passable to horse-drawn wagons.
As he wrote his report, Captain Hammond occasionally looked up and watched Dr. Neruda and his family working with the injured
seamen and other survivors. The doctor's daughter had ingeniously fashioned a small oven from a large square ration can and six flat stones. She used small curls of wood deftly shaved from crate planking to fire the stove, and these she could whittle up at a wondrous rate with a sharp seaman's knife. Soon the oven warmed the stones and spread a reassuring glow to all those who came near. Using another ration can, she began to prepare a strong soup from the tinned meats and vegetables brought by Captain Hammond. The captain was captivated by her dexterity. Her husband seemed no less capable, while the doctor's wife acted as pharmacist and accurately dispensed medications where needed.
Suddenly Lady Yee's words came back to him. She had said he would be glad that he went, and it immediately occurred to him that she had been right. She needed doctors and nurses, and here they were, as if by destiny's call. He penned a note to his wife instructing her to have the big house prepared for occupancy as soon as possible. He said he believed that Guan Yin, goddess of mercy, had answered Lady Yee's humble supplications with compassion, wisdom, and a sense of the unique, as was her custom. He would send more information when time allowed. This note he folded and sealed with a request that Mr. Campion send it on to his house as quickly as possible. He then gave the report to one of the surfboat men along with five dollars to cover his expenses, and asked him to take one of the mules and make his way to Monterey and Mr. Campion. That done, the man was to lead the supply train back as soon as conditions permitted, and to report the state of the roads along the way.
The worst part of the storm passed inland about eighteen hours later, but the rains continued unabated for another day, and by that time everyone concerned was worn to a nubbin and weary to the bone. Tempers were running hot, and the injured were suffering the most alarming distresses from the elements. Dr. Neruda informed the
captain that these people needed sheltered care as soon as possible and suggested that they be moved to the closest dwelling until they could be transported to a hospital. The doctor and his wife would look after the injured, while his son-in-law and his daughter would remain there to look after the others.
Captain Hammond thought this a reasonable suggestion and approached one of the ranchers who had brought his wagon team to the point. It was sheltered in the trees across the road with the other animals and wagons. The rancher's name was Silas Gilpin, and Captain Hammond offered him twenty-five dollars to shelter the injured and ill survivors until transportation could be arranged. Mr. Gilpin said he would shelter them for nothing if they could make the journey of a mile and a half to his ranch. In fact, Mr. Gilpin said he'd just finished building a new hay barn, and it was tight and dry when he left. It could shelter all the survivors with room to spare, and there was plenty of fresh hay for bedding. And though he offered his barn gratis, he said the twenty-five dollars would be helpful in paying to feed all those hungry souls, as he would have to slaughter a pig or two and some chickens, but he believed he could cover the rest in fresh bread and root vegetables, if the captain could supply blankets and medical necessities.
Captain Hammond was so taken with Mr. Gilpin's honest generosity that he gave him forty dollars from his own pocket to cover all his expenses, to include the hay used by the survivors for bedding. In six hours' time all the victims of the disaster were comfortably sheltered in a new barn that smelled of milled wood, dried hay, and fresh paint. Dr. Neruda and his family continued to look after the well-being of their patients, which became easier with the availability of warm shelter, vegetables, hot food, and plenty of fresh water. Mrs. Gilpin brought a small iron trail stove, which was set up in a cleared space at the center of the barn. However, only Dr. Neruda's daughter was allowed to tend it, as she had already demonstrated her skill with fire. She knew how to
generate the most heat from the least amount of fuel and yet produce less smoke and ash by forcing those elements to burn as well. It was a practiced technique unknown to most Europeans, but well understood by most all Asians. With the added heat, Mrs. Gilpin found a way to dry all the blankets from the beams of the hayloft. Within a short while the whole company was as comfortable as circumstances would allow, but certainly much drier, warmer, and far more contented than they'd been since the ship ran aground on the rocks two days previously. Tempers cooled, mutual sympathies resurfaced among the stranded passengers, and Captain Hammond at last believed that he had done all he could. After leaving a letter for Dr. Neruda, he borrowed one of Mr. Campion's mules and rode back to Monterey. His earlier assumptions about road condition proved painfully accurate, so he knew that no wagons would be passing either way for a few days yet. He would make his report to Mr. Campion and then go home to his beautiful daughter and his eerily perceptive wife.
10
CAPTAIN HAMMOND arrived home on Tuesday afternoon unannounced. He had been away for almost six days. Six days in the same torn, damp clothes that now looked like the captain had been dragged all the way home through the mud by an indifferent and callous mule. Not wishing Lady Yee to see him in this deplorable state, he bypassed the front door and went around to the back of the house and entered through the pantry hall, which also led to the large washing room with its water heater and polished copper bathtub. He called for old Lu Chen, the houseboy, and told him to return with a clean suit, fresh linen, and polished boots. After that, he was to inform his mistress that her husband had returned and would attend her when he was once again presentable.
Old Lu Chen grinned at his master's appearance, gave a crusty laugh, and said Lady Yee already knew. She had informed the servants at noon that the captain would be returning a few hours before sunset. She had instructed them to have the water heater fired up and fresh clothes hung in the washroom cupboard. The captain's shaving stand and mirror had already been brought down, and his razors were stropped and waiting. Captain Hammond just rolled his eyes to heaven, sighed, and muttered something under his breath about “the Almighty's
gift of patience,” and then he sent Lu Chen on his way and retired to the peace, warmth, and civility of a hot bath.
The washroom was a relatively large space, with a polished flagstone floor pierced in several places with small grated drains. The space on the left side of the room was devoted to the laundry, with two sets of enameled washtubs set against the wall. The other side of the room, which was separated by waxed shoji screens, contained the large copper bathtub, a bureau containing towels and facecloths, and a Chinese cabinet for hanging clothes. In the center of the room at the back stood a large water heater, which consisted of a forty-gallon brassbound copper tank perched above an iron firebox that used charcoal for fuel. A metal chimney and flue ran up through the roof, and copper pipes serviced both the laundry and the bath. Fresh cold water was fed into the system from the stone water tower adjacent to the house. The captain was delighted to see steam rising from the escape valve on the tank and that the room had been well warmed by the heat produced by the firebox. Captain Hammond smiled to himself, locked the door, and began stripping off his torn and mud-caked clothes. He saved only his old battered officer's cap and seaboots; the rest he threw in the waste bin to be incinerated or used as rags.
As the distant mission bell sounded evening mass, a scrubbed and refurbished Captain Hammond presented himself to Lady Yee in the parlor. His wife found it impossible to maintain a matronly composure, and she rushed into his arms. She professed to have suffered no real fear for his safety personally, but admitted that she had somehow allowed little Macy's constant concerns to seep through the cracks like a chill draft. Just then little Macy came dashing into the parlor like a miniature tornado of bayberry curls and Chinese silks. She was only steps ahead of Li-Lee, as usual, and full of bright squeals and laughter. She ran up and embraced her father's leg as if it were a tree. This was safe ground, and no one but her father was allowed to touch her once she reached
sanctuary. The captain laughed, reached down, hoisted his daughter up to his hip, and asked for a kiss. He received three in return, but also a demand that he never go away again when the storms came. He said he thought that was a pretty good idea as well, but in this case there were people in danger, and sometimes other people had to help them to safety. He was just one of those people helping. To make up for his absence, he promised to read her a very special story at bedtime. Macy put her finger to her head in thought for a moment, and then magnanimously agreed to the lopsided compensation, but only if he agreed to use his funny voices. He agreed if she in turn would do just what Li-Lee wished her to do. Macy nodded and turned to follow Li-Lee out of the room.
Lady Yee waited until they were alone, and then led her husband to the settee and prepared a special blend of tea for them to share. She asked no questions about his adventures or hardships. Instead, she quietly enjoyed his presence, talked about small things like Macy's aversion to thunder, and waited for the captain to open discussion on the urgent Guan Yin note that he had seen fit to pen at the height of the storm. She didn't have long to wait.
Captain Hammond began by saying that among the survivors of the wreck he had surprisingly come upon an old acquaintance, someone who held detailed memories of his previous dealings with Lady Yee from years before. With a slight grin, the captain said this person had been of substantial service to her on their last voyage to India, Pondicherry to be exact.
Lady Yee thought for a long moment, and said her husband must be referring to that interesting Surgeon Major Atman Neruda of the Indian Army, the kind Hindu doctor who had taken such good care of the crewman who'd been brutally assaulted by those gold-braided British thugs near the docks. Lady Yee blushed to admit that she had given that poor gentleman a difficult time because of the military
association with the British, who were not a popular people with the Chinese at the best of times.
Captain Hammond was again struck with the concrete impression that he was once again doomed to always know anything only after his wife knew it first. He had long ceased to show any amazement, and kept a disinterested expression.
Lady Yee asked after the major, and the captain filled in all the particulars, at least the ones he knew. He said there hadn't been much time for pleasant conversation in the middle of the storm, but the doctor and his family appeared highly educated and very competent medical practitioners in the Western sense. After all, Dr. Neruda had spent nineteen years in the Indian Medical Services, and must have been considered highly qualified to have achieved the exalted rank of surgeon major. The captain remembered once being told that such a rank in the Indian Army was notoriously difficult to achieve, especially in the medical corps, where a field surgeon was also required to have a thorough knowledge of ayurvedic medical practices, a principle that should have been copied by the British medical corps. But such was the racial and cultural bias that the British preferred to die in stalwart, patriotic ignorance rather than bow to ancient and proven medical procedures to lessen the suffering of their soldiers.
Captain Hammond reassured his wife that he had made neither proposals nor promises to Dr. Neruda about anything concerning her project. But she was in dire need of a professional medical staff, and it seemed that they had literally washed up at her feet like a chest of rare jade. The captain smiled and said that in light of past association and acquaintanceship, he had simply offered Dr. Neruda and his family a place to stay until their baggage and goods could be retrieved from the grounded ship, and arrangements made for the continuance of their journey, if indeed that was what they wished. But for the present the Neruda family possessed only the clothes on their backs and fifty pesos
in Mexican gold. The captain believed there was no better time to put one's best foot forward, if only to demonstrate honest gratitude for past kindnesses. He said the family would most likely be arriving with the party of injured men sometime the following day, depending on the roads. He would see to it that a surrey brought them to the big house on the other side of the property. In the morning the captain would go to Holman's store and purchase adequate garments for the men, but Lady Yee would have to go through her substantial collection of silks to provide material for traditional saris for the women.