The Silver Lotus (24 page)

The doctor was also pleased, and somewhat amused, to report that his wife, Nandiri, had become quite a favorite with the older Chinese patients. She often gave them especially fortified tinctures of ginseng root, gotu kola leaves, licorice root, and reishi mushroom caps. This simple concoction made the ancients as chipper as starlings because it regulated their systems and gave them sounder sleep and more endurance. And though compounding the tincture required expensive ingredients, and a complex series of steps that demanded exactitude and precision, the tonic was sold to the more elderly patients for a mere five cents
per pint. Each bottle contained sixty daily doses, which made it the least expensive maintenance medication in any market, and far more effective than the patent medicines the people sometimes were encouraged to purchase by itinerant drummers with extravagant claims. Dr. Neruda also reported that three healthy babies had been born, a broken arm and a broken foot had been set, and an old fisherman with advanced pleurisy had suffered a minor heart attack but was resting comfortably in the infirmary. However, his prognosis was not very positive, and his relatives had been told to stay close at hand in case matters turned worse. The Nerudas had also treated two patients with allergic skin disorders, one fisherman who'd had a poisonous stingray barb driven deep into his calf, and a four-year-old boy who had suddenly shown signs of seizures with no apparent cause. Dr. Neruda was happy to report that all their patients, save one, were on the mend, and aside from a minor case of pneumonia, there had been no reports of any communicable illnesses from any of the fishing villages in the previous two weeks.

Mr. Campion, now totally frustrated by all the delays, sought to bring the matter to a head by petitioning the city attorney to seek an injunction that would effectively impound the ship until such time as the owners satisfied her debts. Whereas the beached crew and passengers were facing a drawn-out legal process hampered by a lack of funds, the city attorney and the harbormaster wielded influence that got the judge to sit up and take notice.

The process by which a ship was impounded was as old as maritime law itself. In one sense the ship was literally arrested by the authorities. A court officer, or a federal marshal, would go aboard the vessel in question and seize her registration papers, commissions, logs, cargo manifests, and flags of national origin. This last detail was purely ceremonial, since maritime tradition held that a ship without colors could not sign on a legal crew or leave port without the court's release. Before departing the ship with the skeleton crew, the freighter would be thoroughly
inspected, her cargo affirmed, and her holds sealed. A deputized guard would then be left on board, to be relieved every second day, and the harbormaster would see to it that the security of the anchorage and the ship's cables were inspected regularly for drag or wear. The rest was up to the courts and maritime law.

Captain Hammond now felt himself well out of the picture and was quite content to be so. The whole business had taken up a great deal of his time and energy, and though he'd once visited Mr. Campion's office for social reasons, he put the ship's fate out of his mind and hoped that was the last of it. However, barely two days later, Captain Hammond received another urgent request from Mr. Campion. An unforeseen complication had arisen in the matter of the impounded ship, and Mr. Campion requested the privilege of an unofficial consultation.

As far as Captain Hammond was concerned, there appeared to exist some universal principle that determined no man should enjoy a full meal at home undisturbed by the outside world. This was affirmed by the fact that hand-delivered messages always seemed to arrive at mealtimes. However, this time the captain was determined not to be manipulated by circumstances and sent the doorkeeper away with the envelope until he called for it. As it turned out, the business was hardly time-sensitive.

Mr. Campion was somewhat distraught when the captain arrived. He motioned to be followed, then quickly closed his office door for privacy. With a voice tinged with exasperation, he sat his guest down with a glass of strong port and proceeded to tell Captain Hammond a very grizzly tale indeed.

Mr. Campion said that all that the court had required had been done. A marshal had boarded the ship with two deputies and secured all her papers and flags. In this they enjoyed the complete cooperation of Mr. Atwood and his men, who were overjoyed that the court had seen fit to protect their rights and wages.

But then something very odd happened. Mr. Atwood mentioned to the marshal that the black gang and ship's engineers, who were now all onshore, had complained bitterly that the ship was haunted because they could smell the ghost of the man who had been lost during the storm. Mr. Atwood took the marshal aside and confirmed that there was no one aboard except himself, the cook, and the cabin boy, but he had made an inspection of the engine room the night before, and in fact the cloying smell of death was anything but illusory. He hadn't mentioned it to the cook or cabin boy, because they were pretty well spooked already, but there was something definitely decaying down in the engine room. After a short search of the obvious hiding places, nothing was found and Mr. Atwood barely escaped the deeply fetid atmosphere without losing his supper. He described the debilitating odor as akin to death tinged with coal dust, machine oil, and raw sewage.

Mr. Campion wisely chose brevity to explain the rest. He told Captain Hammond that the marshal, commensurate with his duties to inspect the whole ship and its cargo, had all the deck hatches and ventilators opened, especially those that accessed the engine room. Within moments the marshal experienced that same sickly odor for himself. Once the atmosphere belowdecks had somewhat cleared, and with the overhead deck hatches propped open, the marshal and his men masked their lower faces with wet bandanas against the stink and initiated a thorough search. With the air of a man who hates to hear his own words, Mr. Campion described how they at last pulled up the heavy iron engine-room deck plates and discovered a dead man in the bilges. Sadder yet, there wasn't really that much of him that the rats hadn't gotten to first. The cause of death couldn't be disguised, for the marshal and his men saw a large rusting blade still protruding from the victim's skeletal chest.

Mr. Campion raised his arms in frustration and rolled his eyes to heaven. He bemoaned the fact that this whole crazy business now also
involved a homicide, which would definitely cloud matters all around as far as the ship's disposition was concerned. Mr. Campion verbally rebelled at the thought that the one person who should be held responsible for creating this mortal train of events, and the only character with any explanations worth hearing, the darkly elusive Sigmund Malakoff, had taken to his heels with truly professional dispatch, and was now nowhere to be found, at least not under his own name and description. One might think this fact alone would, of course, place Malakoff in the prime position as chief suspect in the homicide, except for one thing: There wasn't the least hint of a motive or opportunity connecting the two men. Crewmen who had already been interviewed by the city attorney's office had stated that Malakoff and the missing crewman had never been seen speaking. Not one man could even hint at a sign of discord between the two men. This line of testimony made everything that much more confusing for poor Mr. Campion, and he desperately wanted Captain Hammond to reinterview the crew and passengers once more to help determine the truth. Due to his reputation for balanced and equitable judgment, Mr. Campion trusted Captain Hammond. If anybody knew how to avoid the snares of public expectation, which was always so freely broadcast by the uninformed, it was Captain Hammond. And there was one further fly in the ointment. The crime had taken place aboard a ship of foreign registry, albeit stranded on American shores. The incident would therefore come under the scrutiny of federal authorities very shortly. In fact, Mr. Campion and the sheriff of Monterey, Mr. Winslow—along with the state marshal who had impounded the ship and made the grizzly discovery—expected to be interviewed by federal attorneys any day. The legal problems inherent in the case would now be compounded. A matter that should have fallen under the jurisdiction of state courts might now easily be made to wait upon the machinations of higher authority, and that could take years. The ship's creditors might have
to cool their heels, and in the meantime the people of Monterey would have to look at the rusting old steamship anchored out in the bay, a painful reminder of an extremely unfortunate incident made all the more tragic by murder and mayhem. Something would have to be done about that ship. As a sign of his blossoming frustration, Mr. Campion even spoke of using his authority to condemn the freighter as a navigational hazard and then having the unsightly derelict towed somewhere else less conspicuous. However, he well knew the crew's lawyers would object and immediately petition for a stay, so he didn't press the matter.

In his subsequent interviews with the crew, the captain really didn't learn anything new, but one disturbing fact did resurface to disturb his thoughts. He had discounted it earlier, but since the missing deckhand had been found murdered, he was forced to examine the information from a new perspective. Several men had recounted that there was something odd and disturbing about the way the dead man had tormented and insulted the Indian doctor and his family whenever he got the chance. But when Mr. Atwood heard of it, and called the crewman to account, the man angrily said it never happened, and swore the Indian faker was making it up because the crewman was a Muslim. In any event, Dr. Neruda chose to let the matter rest even though other crewmen said they overheard further incidents of the same kind.

Captain Hammond found it almost impossible to credit the idea that the man he knew as Dr. Neruda, a strict vegetarian Hindu who didn't even swat at flies, a man sworn by profession to care for the injured and ill, and a trained surgeon of proven caliber, could resort to cold-blooded murder to avenge a lowly deckhand's insult to his nonviolent religion. The whole idea seemed too far-fetched at best, but what would matter most was the reaction of the federal marshal's office when they eventually encountered the same testimony. The captain wondered how he should address the situation, especially as Lady Yee
had invested so much time and effort in the doctor. This was not the kind of thing she would allow to rest without a thorough examination and explanation.

That very evening after dinner, Captain Hammond invited his wife into his study, and with his notes spread before him on the desk told her in detail about the murder and the crew testimony concerning the victim and Dr. Neruda. Lady Yee listened very quietly, showed no emotion whatsoever, and then asked only one or two incidental questions. When her husband had answered these to her satisfaction, she thanked him for the information and quietly departed.

Despite her superficial calm and almost indifferent demeanor, the captain knew that Lady Yee would now loft all sail and race to disarm all potential adversaries before a legal confrontation interfered with her own agendas. Yet he instantly perceived that Lady Yee thought the idea of Dr. Neruda acting the role of a murderer for religious defamation totally absurd on the face of it. But he also knew she would have to admit that they lived in a world where even groundless accusations caused great mischief and misery to innocent people all the time. She would have to find a way to forestall such an eventuality before any serious damage resulted, and to that end, Lady Yee quietly disappeared into her own sanctum next to the garden parlor, and she didn't emerge until after midnight.

The next morning at breakfast Lady Yee asked her husband if he had a copy of the crew list. He said he did. Then she asked if it also included the crewmen's country of origin. Again he answered in the affirmative. Then she asked if the missing Malakoff had left behind any papers or private logs after he rifled the ship's safe and escaped. The captain said that if any such papers existed, they would now be in the possession of the arresting state marshal, Mr. Sanchez, who, in turn, would be obliged to give them over to the presiding court upon request. Then he smiled and, accurately predicting her next question, told his
wife that he might be able to talk Mr. Rice, the city attorney, into letting him see such evidence, if it existed, but he seriously doubted he'd be allowed to take it away for Lady Yee's personal examination.

Before the captain arose from the breakfast table, Lady Yee passed over seven elegantly hand-addressed envelopes. She politely requested that these missives be delivered to Mr. Campion, the harbormaster; Mr. Atwood; Mr. Rice, the city attorney; Mr. Sanchez, the state marshal; Mr. Winslow, the high sheriff of Monterey; and Dr. Neruda. There was also an envelope formally addressed to Captain Hammond. When her husband asked what they contained, Lady Yee said they were invitations for high tea on the following afternoon.

Captain Hammond went to his own small trading office near the customshouse and called in a bicycle messenger to deliver Lady Yee's invitations. Dr. Neruda's was sent to the infirmary, where he spent most of his time. Then the captain sat back to read his own invitation. He had no idea what the other letters contained by way of instruction, but he was asked to locate Mr. Atwood's cabin boy, Jojo Toyuka, and have him brought to the house no later than five-thirty the following afternoon, and this seemed odd since the invitation explicitly said that tea would be served at four.

Later that same afternoon, Captain Hammond paid a call on Mr. Campion at his office. There he discovered that Lady Yee had politely requested that the harbormaster bring along any and all papers relating to the fugitive captain, Sigmund Malakoff. And when Captain Hammond later accidently came across Sheriff Winslow, he discovered that Lady Yee had requested the sheriff to bring any reports he might have concerning the missing sailor, now presumed to be the murdered man recently discovered in the ship's engine room bilges. After a short discussion, Captain Hammond presumed Marshal Sanchez would also have received a similar request concerning the ship's papers and manifests now in his custody.