Joko (45 page)

But that won’t help us now, James.”

“I’m not afraid of him,” said Swan.

“You should be. I tell you, Swan, Pugil is no idiot like Earl.

The man has a brain, albeit a malevolent one. That’s why Earl is always in jail while Pugil walks free. He gets his brother into fights, then walks away, never gets touched.”

Swan left the room unexpectedly, but in a moment he was back at the table. “Cold, this morning,” said Swan, tucking a napkin under his chin. “These pancakes look most tempting.”

Johnny noticed the bulge of a pistol under Swan’s waistcoat.

Henry looked out the kitchen window. “The snow’ll melt by noon.”

The day passed without incident.

That afternoon, while Johnny and Swan packed for the trip to Yale, Henry sold the mule to Stowe’s Livery & Feed and brought the cash to Swan. Swan left for the bank to settle his accounts, then he made contact with Captain Jack to check the status of the oyster beds they co-owned. When he returned Johnny asked if he’d encountered the Bolks.

“No hide nor hair,” answered Swan. “No surprises,

Johnny. You caught them spying on the house. They’d be stupid to try anything after that. A guilty mind … Besides, we’ll be on the Lucienne bound for Vancouver by tomorrow.”

There was a knock at the door. Johnny and Swan jumped involuntarily.

Swan put a hand on the gun in his coat. “I’ll get that, Maybelle!”

When he recognised a Western Union cap through the glass of the double doors, Swan called out for Johnny to relax. He gave the deliveryman a gracious smile and a generous two-penny tip, and then handed the cablegram to Johnny.

The envelope was addressed:

J T c/o Bash House

Pt. Townsend

Washington State

USofA

“This must be for you, John,” said Swan, handing Johnny the letter.

Johnny tore open the yellow envelope the moment Swan handed it to him. “It must be from Aunt Gert,” he said excitedly, but his face changed expression when he saw that the note was from Doctor Hannington, postmarked Lytton BC.

Johnny read it aloud.

John.

Your Aunt and I thank God that you are alive.

Come home as soon as possible. Take care.

Sending cable for Aunt G. PTB men here.

Hannington.

Lytton, B.C.

10 April 1876

Johnny was quiet for a moment as he pondered the meaning of the letter.

“PTB men can only mean Barnum’s agents,” said Swan.

Johnny handed Swan the letter and frowned. “Costerson, maybe. Doc Hannington sent the cable from Lytton. Maybe they didn’t want it sent from Yale.”

“Makes sense.” Swan squinted at the letter. “Seems your aunt is fine, at least.”

Johnny nodded but still looked worried. His mood distracted Jack from an illustrated book of birds he was studying quietly in the corner of the room. He went to Johnny’s side, his eyes fixed on the paper Swan was holding.

Swan handed Jack the letter. The sasquatch first sniffed it, then stared at the writing. He studied the lettering carefully, then looked at Johnny. “Han … hanning … ton,” Jack said, handing it back to Swan.

Johnny explained to Jack, as best he could, the nature of letters, cables, and the Western Union. Finally he gave up and said: “Well, all that matters is that the letter comes from my Aunt Gert.”

Jack smiled. “Gert make paper.”

Jack went over to the desk where he’d been sitting, picked up a pencil and note pad and began writing. He tore off the paper and motioned for Swan to come to him. Swan, intrigued, was more than glad to comply.

Jack handed him the piece of paper then pointed to

Johnny indicating that he wanted Swan to hand the note to him. Swan then dutifully walked over to Johnny and handed him the note. “Another cable for you, John,” said Swan with a wry smile. “It’s from the sasquatch.”

Johnny looked at the note. At first Jack’s handwriting seemed undecipherable, then he saw the words. He smiled and read the note aloud: “‘Johnny and Jack to home.’”

Jack jumped up and down and hooted with delight and Swan applauded. “Well done, Jack! Got you to actually write a sentence. You must be eager to get home.”

“I just got my first letter from Jack,” said Johnny. “Your teaching worked, Mr Swan.”

Maybelle rushed into the room. “My stars!” she bellowed,

“what on earth is all the commotion about?”

“Jack just wrote his first letter,” explained Johnny, holding up Jack’s note.

“Well, I can’t see why he has to bring the whole house down doing it.” She left the room, muttering under her breath.

The conversation inevitably drifted back to the implications of the letter.

“I think they were just being careful,” said Swan. “This Doctor Hannington seems to be a good friend and no doubt influential. If Costerson, or agents working for him, have been checking on your aunt, I’m sure they wouldn’t come up with anything. They’re most likely long gone by now.”

Johnny nodded and continued packing second hand socks into a blue sack. Jack was at the desk, writing another note and chuckling to himself. Swan looked over Jack’s shoulder to see what the sasquatch was writing. The note said: ‘jack home’. It covered the whole page.

“Hope I’ll find a job when I get back,” said Swan, shaking Henry’s hand.

“Funny,” said Johnny. “That’s what I was thinking.”

The smell of citrus filled the breeze as dockworkers stacked crates of oranges near where Johnny, Jack, and Swan prepared to board the Lucienne. They were at the end of a long dock that jutted perpendicular to the shore, a hundred feet or so. It was large enough to accommodate the traffic of two freighters on each side unloading at the same time.

Looming behind Swan was the rusty hull of the steamer, freight unloaded and ready to board passengers. Johnny and Jack helped a porter load their bags onto a cart while Henry and Swan looked on, passing the time with cigars and conversation while they waited for the Lucienne’s skipper to take his place at the top of the ramp.

Behind them a large dingy from a keeled vessel, anchored some distance out in the bay, was being unloaded by several dockworkers who struggled with barrels of molasses. Cursing them from the dock was a ship’s officer, chiding them at the top of his lungs to work faster lest they miss the tide.

Swan never heard Henry announce the arrival of the

Bolks, who had suddenly appeared behind him. Pugil Bolk slapped Swan on the back, sending him lurching into Henry’s lit cigar, which exploded into a shower of red sparks that nearly set fire to Swan’s brown top coat.

“Swan-ee, my boy!” jeered Pugil. “Leavin’ town. That right? We’ve got a score to settle with you, Swan-ee.” Swan quickly regained his balance, dusting the ashes and dirt from his coat. As he turned around to face the Bolks Johnny saw his hand reach into his coat. Pugil didn’t wait for Swan to turn completely around. Pugil’s fist slammed into his cheek just as he caught sight of the leering smile of Earl Bolk, laughing.

As he drifted into unconsciousness he thought he heard Johnny’s voice saying. “No, Jack!”

Pugil had struck a glancing blow, but it was enough to leave Swan unconscious for a moment, sprawled on top of Henry Bash. But even if he had been awake he might have not seen the sasquatch move. Jack’s speed astonished even Johnny.

Suddenly, inexplicably, Pugil and Earl Bolk were airborne.

Their bodies clanged against the hull of the Lucienne and fell into the water between the ship and the dock. A cheer rose from the gang of workers who had stopped their work, despite the first mate’s curses, at first sight of the altercation.

Swan picked himself up and apologized to Henry.

“No need, James. Are you all right?”

“I think so,” said Swan, swaying slightly on unsteady feet.

He spat blood on to the dock.

Johnny and Jack stood at the edge of the dock looking down. Pugil and Earl were in the ice-cold water below the dock, splashing toward shore.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about with Jack as a bodyguard, I dare say,” said Henry as he and Swan watched the Bolks swim to shore. Earl seemed to be dragging the limp body of his brother.

The captain of the Lucienne called down to them: “Come aboard, gentlemen!”

Johnny’s heart sank as they climbed the ramp to where the officer waited. He was sure they were in trouble and wouldn’t be able to leave, but to his surprise the captain was cordial and smiling.

“I saw it all,” said the captain, slapping Jack on the back as they boarded. “If you don’t mind my saying so, sir, I’ve never seen anyone move as fast as you.”

Jack ignored him. He was looking toward the shore, where Earl struggled to get his brother onto the beach. With a spasm, Pugil sat up, spat water and coughed. He forced himself to his feet and stood staring at the ship. It looked to Johnny as if the brothers were going to return, but the arrival of a policeman halted any plans they might have had. They turned and walked stoically up the stony beach to the street and vanished into an alley.

Noting the arrival of the law, the captain patted Jack on the shoulder. “If there are complaints, I’ll vouch for you.”

Jack still didn’t acknowledge him. He pointed to a small trickle of blood coming from Swan’s nose. “Swan hurt.”

Wiping his nose with a handkerchief, Swan smiled.

“Thanks, Jack. I’ll be fine.”

Very little explaining was necessary when the policeman arrived. Like everyone in Port Townsend he knew of Pugil and Earl’s reputation.

“Do you wish to press charges?” asked the officer.

Swan shook his head. “I don’t know what good it would do. My jaw seems to be in one piece and … well, I have to leave. I hope this settles the matter for Mr Bolk.”

Satisfied, the policeman put away his notebook and wished everyone a good trip.

Henry patted Swan on the back. “Ever the politician.”

Swan scowled at him. “He cut me off. I was going to say that if the matter
isn’t
settled, I’ll drop him like a rabid dog.”

“Now, James,” said Henry, “you have yourself a good trip and forget about the Bolks.”

Swan spat over the railing. “Pugil broke a Makah’s nose for no reason at all. They call those Indians savages, but at least when they attack a man they have a reason. Pugil hurt the son of a Makah chief without reason. That makes him a mad dog to the Makah. Best watch his back.”

Henry had said goodbye to them all and stood waving on the dock as a gang of longshoremen removed the boarding ramp.

The foreman of the crew said something to Henry and they both laughed. Bash put a hand to his mouth and called to Swan. “James, the gentleman thinks Jack could beat Kid Corbett in the ring!”

The captain of the Lucienne shouted back. “That boy is the fastest thing I’ve seen on two feet.” He turned to Swan.

“My god, he hurled those two.” He paused and looked at Jack, meekly standing next to Johnny. “You know, now that I think upon it, I can’t believe my memory is correct.”

“What do you mean?” asked Swan.

The captain stood for a moment pulling thoughtfully on his thick red mustache. “Well, I don’t quite know,” he mused. “I'd swear the boy leaped a good fifteen feet, and when he landed he was foursquare in front of the … Bolks, did you say they were?”

Swan nodded. “Bolks indeed, sir.”

“Uh huh,” said the captain, looking at Jack who had sat down on a large crate waiting for Swan. The captain’s thick eyebrows twitched expressively. “At first I thought he hit those two with his fists. But that’s not right. He pushed them.”

Swan nodded. “Guess so.”

The captain gave Swan a dubious look. “You’ve seen him do this before?”

“No, I’ve never seen him attack anyone, captain. Jack wouldn’t hurt a soul.”

The captain coughed. “He pushed two men, two grown men, into the briny. They must weigh four hundred pounds at the very least. Did you hear them hit the side of the ship?”

Swan smiled. “Oh yes.”

“Where does the boy hail from?

“I believe he’s from Sumatra,” said Swan, almost reflexively.

That seemed to jog something in the Captain’s memory.

“Sumatra, you say?”

“I think so,” said Swan.

“Maybe a ‘boxer’. What do they call them? Martial artists?

I’ve heard of their kind. Oriental. Wily chaps. Very wily,” said the captain, studying Jack.

Swan shook his head. “I don’t know about that. Jack’s just quick, is all. And loyal to his family. He was defending us. I can tell you he witnessed another attack and didn’t do anything. He was acting only to protect me.”

The captain scowled. “I can understand the boy’s motives.

There’s no question of that. No, Mr Swan, I’m only commenting on what I saw him do, his physical ability.

Remarkable!”

“Understood,” said Swan.

It seemed as if the captain was about to pursue the matter further when his first mate came to him with a manifest.

“All tight, sir,” the mate said. “Awaiting orders, sir.”

Swan took the opportunity to excuse himself. He signaled to Johnny and they all picked up the luggage as fast as they could and headed to the interior of the ship. The three made their way, single file, down the spartan, dimly lit corridor.

Johnny looked over his shoulder. “What did the captain think of Jack?”

“I think he’s going to keep his eye on Jack during the trip,“

Swan replied. “He was very impressed. He saw Jack push the Bolks off the pier.”

“Do you think he suspects anything?”

“Suspects what?” Swan retorted. “That Jack is a sasquatch? I don’t think so.” Swan laughed. “He thinks Jack is some kind of oriental fighter. A martial artist.”

Like most freighters, it offered only a few passenger cabins located directly under the bridge. Their quarters proved to be neatly furnished and roomy with four bunks, a large oak dresser, and even a writing table and two chairs.

“This isn’t bad,” said Johnny. “It’s even bigger than the room on the ship we were on from Vancouver.” He dropped the two bags he’d been carrying and sat down on one of the bunks. His smile told Swan the bed met with his approval.

“I only hope the food is as good.” Swan closed the door behind him. He took a notebook and pencil from his jacket pocket and placed it on the table. “Maybe I can get some writing done,” he said with a sigh.