Joko (13 page)
Authors: Karl Kofoed
Johnny stood up, rubbing his neck. “Where’s Jocko?”
“In the garden, I think,” said Gert. “Yes, indeed.” She looked out the window. “Judging from the commotion in the cornrows, Jocko must be hungry.”
“But he was just sitting here, looking at me. He was sitting right there.” Johnny pointed to the chair near the sofa. “He had a toy canoe. It had Port Townsend written on it,” he added, scratching his head. “He was there, in your chair. I saw him!”
“Come and eat breakfast. You’re still asleep, Johnny,” she commanded, pointing a greasy spatula. “No use worryin’ about dreams, boy.”
“No, really,” he insisted. “He was there, plain as day.”
“See for yourself. He’s out in the garden. Never came in the house.” Gert pointed to the window. “Jocko’s out there all right, and soon he’ll eat us out of house and garden. If he’s here much longer our garden will be gone. Except the chili peppers. We’ll have plenty of them. He won’t touch ’em.”
“He lives in the mountains, Aunt Gert. Probably never even saw a garden, or a pepper. Don’t worry. I’ll tell him to stop eatin’ so much.”
Johnny looked again at the chair. Shaking his head, he walked over to the table and sat in his usual place. He ate a quiet breakfast, thinking and staring out at the swaying corn, noting the occasional routed bird as Jocko worked his way through the garden.
What am I getting into?
he thought.
Jocko went to the pump for water. He pushed its handle and seemed delighted when water came gushing forth, splashing all over his legs. Johnny had no doubt that the sasquatch had spent the whole morning in the garden. Corn fuzz and greenery was tangled in his hair.
“Well,” said Johnny as he stepped off the porch, eating a piece of sausage, “aren’t you the dirtiest thing on two feet?”
When their eyes met Johnny immediately thought of
Costerson and Barnum. He scanned the woods that surrounded the house, and then, satisfied that no one was watching them, he walked over to Jocko and put a hand on his shoulder.
“I see you’ve mastered the pump, sort of. Don’t go in the house like that, with your feet all muddy. Gert’ll have our hides.”
Gert watched the boys from the kitchen. Jocko’s nakedness was beginning to concern her. Thankfully, she thought, the fur on his body was thick and covered his groin.
The idea of Jocko’s presence in her home was becoming more unsettling to her every day. She was not the kind to harbor a fugitive, or a scientific discovery, either. She wondered if Jocko would be the death of Johnny.
She recalled that her husband, Jimmy, had told her that he’d heard what sounded like a bunch of apes bellowing in the forest down near Mount Saint Helens, the old volcano.
He was doing survey work for the rail line when there was a big commotion in a thicket. But, try as he would, he never saw what made the noise. He told her there was a horrible smell when he got to the place, and there was a gutted rabbit under a bush that looked like it had been torn apart and eaten.
Jimmy was sure something big was watching him. He got so spooked he ran back to his horse, and he never worked alone in the ‘big woods’ again. After that he always carried a large bore shot gun and a .44 pistol.
The sound of Rocky barking brought her back from her thoughts. Johnny and Jocko were in the backyard near the pump. Johnny was waving one arm while keeping the other on Jocko’s shoulder. Jocko was just standing there listening.
Johnny was obviously trying to communicate something that was fairly complex. Gert found herself brimming with curiosity.
Johnny was trying to tell the sasquatch what he thought they should do. He had a plan to free Jocko and get money for Gert, but his plan required Jocko’s full cooperation. “What I want is for you to go with Costerson, then we’ll escape and go off into the mountains. I could teach you to be a human and you could teach me how to be a sasquatch.”
It was pointless for Johnny to explain about the money. Jocko was a long way from understanding such things. All he knew was that Johnny wanted him to go away with him. That they would be together, like brothers. Jocko knew his course was clear; flee or join Johnny on his travels. Traveling was the only thing the sasquatch could relate to. It had been his life.
One of the main questions Jocko had about humans was how they could stay in one place long enough to build their elaborate nests. Since Johnny seemed to want to travel, Jocko saw promise in their brotherhood.
Johnny’s plan was simple. He would turn the sasquatch over to Costerson in exchange for a five thousand dollar payment to Gert. He would make Costerson sign an agreement saying that the money would be Gert’s, free and clear, even if something happened to Johnny or Jocko during the trip.
Johnny wanted Doc Hannington to witness the deal.
Once the trip was underway, Johnny and Jocko would escape and eventually return to Yale.
Johnny and Jocko linked arms. The ‘touching’, as Johnny came to describe it, was their only path to understanding.
Johnny’s left hand touched Jocko’s right shoulder and Jocko’s left hand touched Johnny’s right shoulder. Occasionally Jocko would say a word or two in sasquatch language and, because they were touching, Johnny would understand.
As Johnny talked Jocko grew nervous. He pictured himself in the bear cage once again.
Why should he allow this when they could simply run off to the woods right now? Jocko didn’t understand the reason behind what Johnny wanted them to do, but he knew that Johnny was asking for his trust in the face of a great unknown and that other humans were involved. This was the core of their argument. Jocko trusted no one but Johnny.
But Jocko knew that he would either have to go with Johnny or go it alone. And being alone, right now, was more than he could bear.
There was a long period of silence.
Finally, Jocko looked into Johnny’s eyes and said. “Jo-cko
… Joh-nny … go train.”
Part IV
Jonny tak Joko to trane ride Iron cow house
to VancoveR
Joko in chainsman mak jonnee com maK bring j
oko To boat
tak joko in cirkus
Johnny didn’t feel any satisfaction. Everything was happening too fast.
Jocko was in a cattle car shackled to a post while Johnny rode the train in style, eating roast chicken while watching the Fraser River that flowed next to the rails all the way to Vancouver.
The two-hundred-mile trip would take over two days, if they were lucky. People said the spring rainstorms had taken their toll on the rails.
Costerson was talking about the five thousand dollars that had gone into Gertrude Tilbury’s savings account at the Yale Union Bank. To hear Costerson tell it, the money had come from directly him. Nobody, he said, would accuse him of cheating Johnny or his aunt. But he also let it slip that Barnum was paying him five thousand for his troubles.
But, to Johnny, it didn’t really matter. Gert had gotten her five thousand. Johnny had made sure of that, and Doc Hannington had witnessed the deal. Now, no matter what happened to him or Jocko, the money was Gert’s, free and clear. When Costerson protested that particular stipulation the doctor had pointed out that ships sink, and Gert’s only family was might be lost on the long journey round the horn of South America. Everyone knew that ships had been lost to the Straits of Magellan. The only fair thing to do was give Gert the money, free and clear.
Costerson was spending Barnum’s fortune without the showman having had so much as a peek at his property. But his indebtedness to the famous showman didn’t seem to faze Costerson. He acted as if he owned the world, slicing into a thick expensive steak and telling Johnny all about his service to the railroad and the time Secretary Seward was sitting across from him and they played cards all the way to Edmonton. He laughed about America’s plans to buy the useless territory of Alaska. Then bragged about all the free drinks Seward had bought him.
Johnny hated Costerson. Everything the man did seemed to be at someone else’s expense.
Johnny said very little as he listened to the man go on about the American Civil War – about how the rich bastards in the North were hurting the farmers by taking their slaves.
Johnny believed no one should be a slave, but he kept quiet and let the man have his say. He thought of Jocko, chained up in a cattle car. No, he didn’t believe in slavery.
Costerson said the ‘Great War’ had been about politics and money, not slavin’, but Johnny knew that Yale had acquired a lot of new citizens after the war. Many had come to British Columbia to join in the rush to find gold up the Fraser River.
Johnny felt sick after he ate; sick of Costerson and his war exploits; his American expertise with the ladies and business; his contacts; his plans after Barnum got the ape-boy and he got his money.
It was a shame
, he thought,
because the food was excellent
.
When Johnny conceived his plan, he imagined freeing Jocko from the train, hopefully somewhere between Yale and Port Coquitlan, the port city near Vancouver. The train would stop at Hope, Agozzi, Laidlaw, Chilliwack, Mission City and Haney. Any of these stops might provide an opportunity for Johnny to free the sasquatch.
There were two keys to the padlocks that secured Jocko’s chains. Johnny had one and Costerson the other. Johnny won custody of the duplicate key only after convincing Costerson that if something happened to Costerson during the trip, then no one would be able to get Jocko out of the cattle car.
For that gesture of trust, Johnny paid the price of being constantly in Costerson’s company.
It was a long trip and Johnny was worried that if they got to the last stop where the boat waited, it might be too late. If they got onboard a ship, he had no idea how he might free Jocko.
The blue Fraser River was visible through the pines as the trip, now in its twelfth hour, wore on with no apparent letup in Costerson’s tales. Worrying about Jocko seemed to be Johnny’s only respite from them. Finally, when he could stand no more of the man’s ego, Johnny yawned and feigned falling asleep. His plan worked. Costerson fell asleep too.
But so did Johnny. When he awoke, the train was pulling away from a station Johnny didn’t recognize. His neck was sore from having rested on his shoulder for the last hundred miles and his shirt was wet from drool.
Horrified and embarrassed, Johnny looked around. He sat across from a distinguished looking woman who must have gotten on while Johnny slept. Costerson sat next to her on the outside. They were both looking at Johnny.
“Well, John,” laughed Costerson. “You sure are a sloppy sleeper.”
The woman smiled nervously.
“Where are we?” Johnny asked, rubbing his eyes and wiping his chin with a handkerchief. “Sorry,” he added without looking at the woman. Not only was he embarrassed and humiliated, but he had also missed six opportunities to free his friend. Port Coquitlan was next.
As if on cue the conductor walked through. “Port
Coquitlan, next stop, half hour or so,” he repeated as he made his way through the car collecting tickets.
Thankfully Costerson was too interested in impressing the lady opposite him to embarrass Johnny with any more remarks at his expense. Johnny just stared out the window, wondering what to do.
Nothing had gone as he planned. He wondered if he was receiving divine retribution for having schemed a schemer, but Johnny couldn’t imagine a person more deserving of a good double cross than Costerson. With such greedy intentions, why shouldn’t someone put one over on him?
Johnny thought of Gert and how she hated deceit in any form. He knew she’d never condone lying to Costerson or anyone.
“You have to be true to your word,” she would say. “So be careful who you give it to.”
Gert had a rule for this, and a sayin’ for that. It seemed that every time Johnny wanted to do something, there she was with her Quaker ethics, moralizing away. Now, in the back of his mind, she was still at it.
Well, I didn’t give him my
word
on anything
, Johnny argued in his mind
. I just told him I’d go with him. I didn’t say how far
. But now his argument meant nothing. Soon they’d be loading Jocko into the hold of a freighter bound for Florida.
His plan, when they’d boarded the train in Lytton, was to get Costerson used to periodic checks on Jocko. Johnny had insisted that Jocko needed company or he’d go nuts. But that was also a lie. He had no idea if checks on Jocko would help the sasquatch at all.
Johnny wasn’t as good a liar as Costerson. Somehow, he sensed that the man knew he was planning something. That’s where his scheme fell apart.
Costerson didn’t allow Johnny a single visit to the boxcar.
He said that if no one could get in or out of the boxcar, then Jocko would arrive safe and sound in Vancouver. He added that he didn’t want to bring unwanted attention. Every reason the man gave made sense, especially when Costerson said:
“Letting you out of my sight was how I lost old Jocko the first time.”
The noises in the boxcar had drowned out Jocko’s screams of terror, and the rocking had spilled the water Johnny had left him soon after the train pulled out of Yale. Once he had forced himself to sleep, only to be awakened by the pain from the chains attached to his arm and leg. The blood on his wrist had made the shackle slippery, and finally, after hours of trying, Jocko freed his hand. He licked the blood to ease the dryness in his throat.
The Fraser River still flowed alongside the train as it pulled into Port Coquitlan. The river had widened into a larger body of water. Ships dotted the blue haze on the horizon as the port city came into view. The water here was salty and full of life. Salmon nets hung from poles and stretched alongside the hulls of upturned dinghies. Fishermen, Indians, and pioneers made their lives in shacks that dotted the shore.
Johnny bit his lip. All he could see was civilization; no hint of a place for an escaping sasquatch to blend into the wild.
The wilderness still touched the sea in places, but not here, and what forest Johnny could see was broken up by large settled patches. What he saw didn’t match his boyhood memories of the area at all.
The train slowed as Johnny leaned forward to see the surrounding area. His heart sank as his eyes confirmed his fears. The escape he’d planned would be impossible from this place. His heart pounded and sweat dampened his upper lip as he pictured Jocko on display in Barnum’s sideshow.
Costerson was standing, holding his topcoat and hat. He peered down at Johnny as the woman moved past him to find an attendant to help her with her bags.
“Johnny,” said Costerson. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Just a little tired still, I guess,” said Johnny.
As Johnny stepped down to the platform a rude blast of steam nearly knocked him down.
“Welcome to Port Coquitlan,” he muttered under his breath as he wiped grit from his eye.
Costerson didn’t hear him. He was holding some documents and talking to a baggage clerk some distance away. He pointed to the rear of the train, and together they walked off in that direction. Johnny had no idea what Costerson’s plans were. He’d never actually spelled them out.
Johnny felt stupid. All he could do was trot along behind the men, while deep inside a little voice said a silent prayer for himself and for Jocko.
Before they left, standing in the train station at Yale, Gert had suggested that Jocko might like the circus.
“All the lights and excitement,” she’d said. “Jocko might find it exciting. I’m sure they’ll take good care of him. Him bein’ a star attraction and all.”
Johnny assumed she said it for Costerson’s benefit, so he didn’t argue. He had just nodded and smiled because he didn’t want Gert to worry.
But he knew the sasquatch. If Jocko got to Sarasota, the circus would surely destroy him. Even if he somehow survived a few years on display as ‘Jocko, the Gorilla Boy’, as Costerson had said Jocko might be billed, he’d probably die of sorrow. And it would be Johnny’s fault.
Gert’s sage advice haunted him. “The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.”
Johnny the do-gooder
, he thought.
That’s me, all right
.
Costerson and the clerk stopped at the last boxcar. As he got near them he heard Costerson tell the baggage man to order the boxcar detached from the train and have it put on a siding. As the trainman tipped his hat and walked off, Costerson removed the padlock that secured the boxcar door.
As the chain came loose he cast a doubtful eye on Johnny and pulled his coat to one side to reveal the weathered bone handle of a small revolver.
“It’s my sworn duty to protect the cargo any way I have to, John,” said Costerson. “You understand that, don’t you?”
Johnny stared at the man and tried to remain calm. “Yes, sir.”
Seeing he had made his point, Costerson directed his attention to the door. Slowly he slid it open, placing his shoulder between Johnny and the view inside. Before Johnny could see Jocko, Costerson slid the door closed again and replaced the padlock. “The cargo’s just fine.” He grinned at Johnny.
Johnny was frustrated and angry. “How is he?”
Costerson, relishing the power of the moment, just smiled and snapped the lock shut.
Johnny was furious.
“Count to ten,” his aunt would say, but this time her advice had no effect. He began looking around for a weapon.
Costerson, after all, was a head taller than Johnny, and armed.
A long handled shovel leaned against the side of a depot building. Johnny eyed it, then looked to see how many witnesses were around. There were people everywhere.
“Look, Costerson,” Johnny barked. “Why can’t I see how he’s doing? I’m supposed to be his keeper. You agreed to that. Don’t you want to get him to Barnum in one piece?”
Costerson smiled. “He’s fine, Johnny. Don’t upset yourself, boy. Your monkey-boy is doing just fine. I’ll get him some water and some greens after we’ve got him safely out of sight and on a siding. After all, we don’t want to attract a lot of attention. Jocko will be Barnum’s star! We’re sailing tonight. The Griffith will take us around South America and all the way to Florida, and in grand style, I may add. Nothing but the best for you, Johnny.”
“Save your sympathy,” snarled Johnny. “It’s Jocko who needs it, not me!”
Costerson laughed. “Your ape is doing fine. Relax, my boy.”
The angrier Johnny became, the happier Costerson seemed. He put an arm around Johnny and led him away from the boxcar. Johnny looked longingly at the shovel. It was too far away for him to grab. Another opportunity lost.
Johnny looked back and saw workmen unhitching the boxcar. “What are they doing?”
Costerson looked over his shoulder, then gave Johnny’s shoulder a squeeze. “Movin’ the car to a siding, John. Jocko is going for a cruise and so are you. Think about it, boy,” the railroad agent said happily. “We’re off on a great adventure. I haven’t been on a trip like this since I fought in the –”
“Great Civil War,” interrupted Johnny, pulling his shoulder free. “I know. I’ve heard about it all the way from Yale. Look, Costerson. I’m Jocko’s keeper. Barnum said so. You said so yourself. I want to know how Jocko fared on the trip from Yale.” His voice cracked in anger.
“Calm down, boy!” said Costerson. “No need to be rude.
We have to check into the port situation. In a few hours we’ll have a wagon here to take him to the ship. You’ll see Jocko then. But right now let’s get something to eat.”
There was nothing Johnny could do but wait. If he did what he was thinking he’d go to jail. “Have you seen to it that he has food and water?”
Costerson smiled. “There’s a restaurant up this street. I’ll buy.”
After the train stopped all Jocko could hear were the sound of muffled human voices. He waited with his body coiled like a spring, ready to defend himself from his mortal enemies. But, exhausted and in pain from the trip, dizziness overtook him and he fell asleep.
The next thing he knew he was staring at the face of the man Johnny called Costerson. Then the door to the boxcar slammed shut and the darkness returned. Moments later, Jocko thought he heard Johnny’s voice, but the door didn’t open again.