Two Peasants And A President Part 1

Two Peasants and a President.

A Novel.

By Frederick Aldrich.

For my beautiful daughter Angeline.

And my amazing grandsons.

A.J. and Jack.

Acknowledgments.

Jim Langley, old friend, talented photographer and avid Kindle reader, for his many helpful suggestions surrounding the publication of this work on Kindle and his help with the cover.

Robert Lendrum, British photographer residing in Hong Kong for his photo of a Chinese junk and a warship which I used as part of the cover art.

Image Robert Lendrum.

My bright young grandson Jack for pointing out some things I missed.

1.

Like sentinels standing shoulder to shoulder, protecting their treasure from invading barbarians, the steel and gla.s.s towers seemed to conspire to prevent so much as a glimpse. The two young Americans knew it had to be near. They'd walked almost a mile and had begun to sweat in the hot Asian sun, but the towers continued to thwart their quest.

The first hint that they were getting close was a narrow shaft of wood protruding above a low structure, the only such structure they'd seen since arriving in this place. What the structure lacked in height, it made up for in length, extending perhaps a quarter mile into the sea while much of it was on land. They quickened their pace, knowing that they would reach the other side in perhaps fifteen minutes. There they would learn if what they had sought these many months lay behind it.

It had begun as a request so far-fetched as to invite disappointment. They had debated even mentioning it since they knew its cost would be prohibitive, but like dreaming children they had dropped the idea into the pot along with their other wishes for that special day. That was six months ago.

Then, two weeks ago, they spotted among the brightly ribboned boxes an envelope. It stood leaning against the extravagant expressions of love and affection, tiny by comparison but beckoning nonetheless. They hesitated, knowing that opening it would dispel all doubt, perhaps replacing it with disappointment that would be quickly smothered with smiles and professions of grat.i.tude.

Holly picked it up, stealing a conspiratorial glance at her husband of less than two hours. Slipping her slender fingers inside she grasped the card.

For Holly and Ray on your wedding day, from your loving parents, read the message. Between the pages were two tickets to Hong Kong and a voucher for a honeymoon cruise in Hong Kong harbor and on the South China Sea.

It seemed like they'd been wedded to the narrow seats of the plane longer than they'd been married. More than fifteen hours had elapsed since they'd bid goodbye to their parents, and they had yet to catch a glimpse of the legendary city. When the prepare for landing announcement finally sounded and the plane banked for its approach, they pressed their faces against the tiny window and stared downward into the night sky.

Beneath them, hundreds of gleaming towers lined the harbor from waters edge to the foot of the mountain, monuments to the unbridled imagination of architects unfettered by financial constraints. Like fabled kings of some futuristic world, each wore a bold neon crown which cast its melted crayon glow in streaks across the still waters of the harbor. Above them all, the king of kings, a slender silver giant one thousand five hundred and eighty-eight feet above the harbor seemed scarcely to notice the gaudy dwarfs beneath it. Millions of points of light speckled the sh.o.r.eline into infinity as the newlyweds stared speechless into this man-created Milky Way.

No veil of sleep descended this night. It was as if the electricity had seeped from the buildings into their bodies. Each time they slipped into their bed, it roused them again, beckoning them back to the hotel room window to stare at the extraordinary skyline that is Hong Kong.

The concierge had suggested they take a taxi to the cruise dock, but they were eager to see the city one eye full at a time rather than simply rush through it in the back seat of a cab. The sweat that now soaked their shirts did not dampen their spirits because they felt certain that the wooden shaft must be the top of a mast. When at last they rounded the corner of the ocean terminal, a little ways ahead, rocking gently at its moorings, was a n.o.ble descendent of more than ten centuries of commerce and warfare.

As if catapulted back into history, the newlyweds stood transfixed at the sight. Having taken time to research the cruise, they knew that as far back as the early 1900's this very junk had hauled spices and porcelain between Hong Kong and Southeast Asia. During the Second World War, it smuggled rifles to fight the j.a.panese. Now, after a 3 year refit, it was part of a fleet of refurbished junks that provide tourists with a taste of the seafaring commerce of antiquity.

A Chinese man, taller than any they had seen so far, stood at the gangplank. When they approached, he held out his hand and smiled a greeter's smile. After tearing the coupons off their voucher, he stood aside and motioned them up the gangplank. It was not terribly wide, but there was a rope strung along one side to serve as a handhold; all the more, they imagined, as it might have been when the tallest buildings in Hong Kong were the three story wooden customs houses along the wharf.

The deck was laid with well-worn wooden planks, smooth but uneven, as if sanded by the soles of numberless feet. Making their way aft, the newlyweds encountered a middle-aged couple, obviously Chinese, who appeared as though they might be enjoying an anniversary or perhaps just a voyage on a relic of their country's history. They turned to greet the Americans.

"Americans, I'd venture," said the man in almost perfect British English. He appeared to be in his fifties with hair trimmed a like brush, scarcely flecked with gray. Wearing baggy black slacks and simple thin-soled canvas shoes, he looked little different from most of the Chinese they'd seen so far.

"I guess we're not at all obvious," Holly laughed.

"Let's just say we don't worry too much about American spies around here," he said with an easy laugh. "I'm Jimmy and this is my wife, Grace."

"h.e.l.lo Jimmy," said Ray, extending his hand and noticing the Chinaman's hands were supple and without calluses. "I'm Ray and this is my wife, Holly."

"What brings you two to Hong Kong?" asked Grace pleasantly, but with an accent absent from her husband's speech.

"We're on our honeymoon," replied Holly.

"I knew it!" said Grace. "I could just tell by the way you two seem so in love."

"Looks like no secrets around here," Holly laughed. While Grace seemed pleasant enough, it was a bit more forced than her husband who was clearly the more naturally gregarious of the two.

Ray noticed that the gangplank was being pulled onto the pier and the crew was readying the craft for sailing.

"I take it this is your first time aboard a Chinese junk," Jimmy said.

"Yes, we're so excited," replied Holly, "it's something we've been dreaming about for a long time. It's a wedding gift from the most wonderful parents in the world."

"I see," he said. "I believe you're going to find it most interesting. You might want to stand over here; they're getting ready to raise the sails. You see, unlike western tall ships whose sails were stored on the yard arms and unfurled downward with gravity, the sails on a junk were normally hoisted into place. And unlike western sails, these sails have ribs, much like the sail on the back of a sailfish, which gives them their distinctive shape."

"How fortunate we are to be sailing with someone so knowledgeable," said Holly.

"My husband's great-great-grandfather was a trader," Grace interjected. "He roamed the South China Sea for most of his life."

"How fascinating! No wonder you have such an interest in these ships."

"Yes, they do have a bit of a history. Why don't you two newlyweds check out the bow? There's a excellent place up there to sit and watch the skysc.r.a.pers slide by. We'll be joining you later for dinner."

The deck shifted beneath their feet as the enormous copper-clad oak rudder signaled a turn from the harbor into the South China Sea. A mast more than a foot in diameter at its base groaned, protesting wind that tugged at its sails, drawing wrist thick ropes taught between the heavy rails and the rigging above.

"They certainly seem friendly enough," Holly commented.

"Handy to run into a couple of English speakers," said Ray. "Guess we owe that to the Brits. They leased this place for ninety-nine years; not that the emperor had much choice. Apparently, he neglected to build a navy and when the big-gunned ships of the line showed up one day, they basically invited themselves in. Made a bundle until the lease ran out in 1997. Did you know there are more Rolls Royces in Hong Kong than there are in London?"

"No, I didn't," replied Holly. "Didn't know my handsome young husband had such an encyclopedic memory either."

"There 's a great deal you don't know about me, my dear," Ray said mysteriously.

"Is that so? Are you planning on showing me more tonight?" she asked teasingly.

"Perhaps," he replied, feigning an enigmatic smile.

A steward appeared behind them and in an almost hushed tone, as if hoping not to awaken someone nearby, announced that dinner was served. Tracing their way back along the smooth wooden planks, they entered a long, flat deck house lit by bra.s.s-clad gas lamps. Inside, a rough-hewn table topped with bowls of steaming delicacies beckoned them. The table could easily have seated twelve, but the Americans noticed that their only dinner companions were the Chinese couple.

Holly struggled at first with her chop sticks, but the steward showed her how to hold them, and soon she was successfully though clumsily lifting food to her mouth. Jimmy and Grace ate quickly and efficiently, raising their bowls to their lips and shoveling the food with their chop sticks. Finally, Jimmy set his chopsticks down and after wiping his mouth looked over at the Americans.

"Nearly eight hundred years ago, Kublai Khan, the fifth great Khan of the Mongol empire and a grandson of Genghis Khan, sent his amba.s.sadors in a craft much like this to j.a.pan in a bid to open trade. For centuries, j.a.pan had chosen to remain closed to outsiders, and the Kamakura Shogunate beheaded the Khan's amba.s.sadors to send a message that they intended to continue to remain closed."

"The Khan was deeply offended at the impudence of the j.a.panese. Along with his father and grand-father, he had conquered countless nations and city-states, sending tens of thousands of mounted warriors thundering out of the steppes to slaughter all who resisted. But he was far more than an insensate killer. His armies would first surround a city, dispatching a party under a flag of peace to speak to the leaders. They would be given a choice, submit to Mongol rule and be allowed to live their lives much as before or, if a single arrow was loosed against a Mongol soldier, every living thing in the city would be slaughtered."

"Most surrendered. In return, they were allowed a degree of self-governance and the pursuit of many customs and religious practices as before. The Khan encouraged art and culture and a.s.similated what he found appealing into his own. But the Mongols did not tolerate rebellion, rewarding it with utter devastation. Word of their conquests and military prowess reached all the way to what is now Europe and for a time, its inhabitants lived in fear as the Mongol hordes drew nearer."

"In the spring of 1281, the great Khan sent two separate forces, totaling more than 140,000 warriors and 4,400 ships to the j.a.panese coast at Tsushima and Kyushu. But the enormous effort entailed in building such a fleet had resulted in some smaller coastal vessels being pressed into service. These were unsuited either for the heavy seas or the legendary storm that ultimately resulted in the defeat of the Mongol invasion and the continued isolation of j.a.pan for centuries. To this day, that storm is reverently referred to in j.a.pan as 'divine wind' or 'kamikaze'."

"Those ships were not too different from the one we are on," he continued, "though many were larger, some as long as four hundred feet, and could carry hundreds of horses into battle. And this was by no means the only sea battle in which junks partic.i.p.ated, which accounts for many deforested areas in China. But in later centuries, the emperors lost interest in naval ships, thinking the Forbidden City too isolated and well-protected to require a navy, which left them defenseless when the Europeans arrived."

Holly felt Ray's elbow gently nudge her ribs.

"Wow, that's really interesting," she said, "I bet this junk could tell some fascinating tales."

"Indeed it could," replied Jimmy with an enigmatic smile, "indeed it could."

"Are we the only guests aboard?"

"Apparently so," answered Jimmy.

"I wonder how they make any money with so few pa.s.sengers," Holly mused.

"I'm sure they have ways," he replied. "When you've finished eating, you should go out on deck and enjoy the South China Sea. Few of your countrymen have had the opportunity to sail in waters with so much history."

Holly coaxed the last morsel into her mouth and looked guiltily over at her husband, remembering the lecture she'd given him not long ago about overstuffing himself. The glazed look in his eyes reminded her of an afternoon of football and beer.

"Wake up," she said.

"Hi," he said, leaning over to touch her cheek with a kiss. "I was just thinking about all this. An hour ago we were looking at a Hong Kong skyline that's like something out of Star Wars, and now we're on the South China Sea in a vessel that could have sailed out of the thirteenth century. Not many people get to experience anything like this. Can't believe our folks actually gave us such a wonderful wedding gift."

"I know," she said. "They're really special. You want to go out on the deck and count stars?"

"Sure," he replied, rising unsteadily from his chair. Turning to the steward, he said: "That was wonderful. Thank you." The soft-spoken steward simply nodded, smiling strangely. The Chinese couple had finished eating and gone below. Through the wide portal aft, the garish lights of Hong Kong had faded into the dark coast of the South China Sea and overhead millions of glittering stars left no doubt as to who could create the most amazing light show.

The breeze stiffened, the rigging crackling and stuttering as the junk rode the swells. The newlyweds relished the excitement of being at sea for the first time in their lives. That they were aboard one of the most romantic sailing ships in history heightened what was certainly the greatest thrill of their young lives. Leaning against the rail, their gaze drifted from the dark waters upward to where all that remained of Hong Kong was a faint glow in the distant sky.

"Are you all right?" Holly asked, noticing that her husband was swaying unsteadily.

"I'm all right," he replied feebly. "I think I just drank a little too much wine."

The navigation lights of another craft she had noticed earlier were getting closer. It seemed to be headed toward the junk rather than on a course that would take it toward some distant harbor.

"I wonder how far away from Hong Kong we are," she said. Raymond's response was garbled and incoherent. His glazed eyes stared into s.p.a.ce and his legs seemed rubbery.

"Are you sure you're OK?" she asked. "You're worrying me, babe. Do you need a doctor?" It was as if he hadn't heard her. Alarmed, she turned around to look for a crew member who could help her get her husband off his feet. Jimmy stood in the shadow of the mast, having apparently been watching for some time. Abruptly, he barked something in Chinese and two crewmen appeared, each grabbing one of her husband's arms and easing him down onto the deck.

"Not on the deck!" she said. "You need to lay him on a bed, then get him to a doctor." There was no response as the crewmen turned their attention toward the other craft, which was now quite near. Its spotlight suddenly illuminated the side of the junk. To her relief, she saw that it looked like a police boat. The crew must have already alerted the authorities.

The other craft maneuvered sideways and two figures near its rail heaved lines toward the junk which were quickly retrieved and secured. A moment later it was alongside and in the stern a man who appeared to be an officer shouted something. Jimmy replied, then barked another order to the two seamen on the junk. Each took one of Holly's arms.

"No, you need to help my husband first!" she said urgently. Their only response was to tighten their grip. Then she saw Grace step out of the shadows and walk toward her. Holly started to ask her if she could explain to the crew that she needed them to help her husband first. That was when she noticed that Grace's right hand held a syringe.

"Oh, my G.o.d," she said to herself as the sickening realization that her honeymoon had ended crept like an early frost into her bones. Her last thought before she slipped into unconsciousness was that they were a long way from home.

A pair of stretchers were handed over to the junk from the other craft. The now unconscious Raymond was placed on the first. Carefully judging when the rails of the two bobbing craft would be close to even, the seamen from the junk pa.s.sed his stretcher to waiting arms on the other craft.

Grace, kneeling over the supine Holly and holding her wrist, looked up.

"Her pulse is strong; she will travel well," she said to her husband, whose friendly smile was now a grim mask. He spoke again to the seamen and they lifted Holly onto another stretcher and pa.s.sed it carefully to the other craft.

The spotlight blinked out and the lines that held the two craft together were loosed. Within minutes only the distant throb of the police boat's engines could be heard from the junk whose helmsman once more swung the giant oaken rudder and began the turn back to Hong Kong.

2.

Holly pulled the blanket up around her neck. It's cold, she thought. In her semi-sleep state, her brain processed the information slowly, not wishing to awaken itself entirely, not yet ready to abandon the comfort of sleep. She drifted back into her dream for a few moments, then decided that her pillow needed to be snugged around the back of her neck. Again her brain started to let itself slip back into the dream, but part of it was processing what it sensed outside her body and that jolted her into consciousness.

Abruptly, she sat up and blinked. Blinked again, as if opening and closing her eyes would dispel the mystery and the darkness. Her brain and skin confirmed the reason she had pulled the blanket around her: it was cold and damp. Now unsettlingly awake, she sensed that it was not the darkness of her room, darkness that could be banished simply by reaching for the light switch.

A thin, barely discernible, horizontal band of illumination emanated from somewhere in front of her. She focused on it for several minutes, hoping to ascertain its source. Like light that finds its way under a door but at the same level as her eyes, it continued to puzzle her until she leaned back, placing her hands behind her. It was then she realized she was on a floor, lying on a mattress, with a pillow and blanket. She knew this because she could feel them, but the rest of her surroundings existed only as dark shadows in the place that she had begun to suspect was her prison.

Like an unexpected wave washing over her, the honeymoon suddenly flooded back into her mind. She reached out as if to pull it closer, to cling to some shred of reality.

"Ray? Ray? Babe, are you there?" she said tentatively, not really expecting to hear his comforting voice. The terrifying darkness did not answer. She pulled the blanket up around her neck, now seeking not only warmth but safety. She could feel a tear gliding down her cheek. It seemed to mock her, scorning the helplessness that was starting to envelope her. She fought the sudden up welling of emotion inside her, like flood waters engulfing her, drowning her control.

Light. Light. I just need light, she thought desperately, now feeling short of breath, the darkness a hood, covering her, smothering her. She threw her head back, as if to shake off the panic, striking her head against something hard. She started to cry, but that angered her. Anger, something familiar, something she knew. The anger made her stronger; she could feel it. It reminded her that she was not a weak woman. Her family had raised her strong. She began trying to think clearly, to make sense.

Her purse had not been s.n.a.t.c.hed, there had been no fender bender, no minor daily trauma that could be dealt with after a moment's reflection, followed by some appropriate action. She wasn't overreacting to some insignificant event. That thought tripped a spring and everything came flying up at her. She had been kidnapped on the South China Sea. She had been taken prisoner and thrown in some dark cell. Her soul mate, husband of but days was nowhere she could reach out to, and her family was thousands of miles away, blissfully unaware that she was desperately in need.

That thought unlocked more tears as a new possibility thrust its inelegant hand deep inside her. What had they done with Ray? Was he even alive? She could no longer hold back the images that thought evoked and she began to sob.