It was a dreadfully wet and windy night, and the storm had raged for well on four days. He should not have ventured from the warmth and safety of the hut, but he was an old man and his pleasures were few. At the Gaming House he could soften his feelings of homelessness and hardship in this land so far from his China. His country seemed so distant. His spirit yearned to tear itself apart from his stooped body and seek those of his ancestors on the other side of the world.
With age his physique and sight were failing, but he was still wise and acutely alert. Daily he cradled at the Creek, searching the bucket loads brought up from the deep shafts and doing his fair share of barrow loads a day. He could still get ten rocks of the cradle with two measures of the water dipper. Mining had not brought him great wealth. Certainly not enough for him to return to his ancestral land, and time was running out. Although he knew in his heart that he was always to stay, he drew comfort from knowing he was well respected by the other miners, and a friend to all. Friends especially with young Ah Ming, his closest companion.
They had left from Canton together, so many years ago, full of the dreams and desires of young men. Following along the gold mining trails of California and Victoria before coming to New Zealand, they had suffered the prejudices and hardships like brothers, sharing their fights, sorrows and joys. How proud he had been to be a witness at Ah Ming's wedding. It had been such a a fine affair, and in such a grand English church. The young couple needed his support, for it wasn't readily accepted by the Europeans or his countrymen when there was a mixed marriage. Mary was a kind girl. She too had come from across the world, from the small coastal village of Tywardreath in Cornwall. Life certainly was not easy for her, with all the children and the hardships of mining life. She had almost died after the stillbirth of her last child. The drunken midwife had all but left her at death's door. Koo Eee took care of her, like a father at times, and tried to help where he could. They shared a very special unspoken bond and understanding.
Although it was not easy for Mary being away from her own people, she chose to live as she did. She loved her husband dearly. He was a good, strong, handsome man and a leader amongst his people. Mary was proud to be his wife, and to see the respect and admiration from those around him. Even the Europeans held him in high esteem, acknowledging his value and integrity as a leader and his skills and diplomacy as an interpreter.
Ah Ming became increasingly worried. As the late stormy evening turned into nigh there was still no sign of the old man on his way back home from the Kaniere township. He always called in on his way back up to his hut. Standing at his doorway. Ah Ming's eyes strained as he searched for the glow of Koo Eee's lamp, but there was no sign, and the rain and wind kept up mercilessly.
It was certainly no night to be out in such a country. There were many mine shafts, gullies and rugged areas of bush around the rough settlements. For Chinaman there were other dangers too, for prejudices and jealousies were common amongst the transient miners. Ah Ming's fears rose for his friend. With a quiet word to his Mary, he started a night-long search, checking at the Gaming House, questioning other miners and searching the tracks and workings.
Mary dried her husband's clothing as he warmed himself by the fire. Steam rose from the dampness and he sat stooped in thought. The younger children huddled quietly together, their black hair glowing and their shiny eyes wide and enquiring. What had happened to their friend?
There was a heavy silence. Nothing but the steady drumming of the rain. With the worry, Mary's mind played worse tricks than had become usual since her fever after that last baby. She struggled to control the wild colours, the panic and the noise which swirled in her head. It eased her mind and her spirit to prepare hot food for her family, to ready them for the day ahead.
When the two oldest sons returned with the other Chinese miners from the neighbouring gullies, they gathered together to plan the search. And search they did, retracing their steps time and time again, but with no joy. The rain fell constantly. There were rivers where rivers had never run before, and it was as if Kaniere and her complex community would be washed from the world. Ah Ming's pleas for assistance from the European community and Police were not met with enthusiasm. There was little incentive for them to concern themselves with one old Chinaman, especially in such dreadful conditions. Off-hand suggestions were made that he had probably gone off to Greymouth, or even to China. No-one really seemed to care or even try to understand.
Gradually Ah Ming, Mary, their family and fellow countrymen withdrew into themselves the sorrow, uncertainty and restlessness of the loss of their dear old Koo Eee.
Mary's mind suffered badly. She became so crazed and irrational that her husband had to send her away. She was taken from one institution to another throughout Otago and the Coast, and she became quite sullen and violent in her madness.
Strangely it had been one of her own kind whose actions had brought on her insanity. A drunken Cornish midwife, overtaken by a drugged sleep, had left poor Mary bleeding, in shock and unconscious after the passing of a still born son. The fever which followed took its toll on more than Mary's mind. It took from Ah Ming his only reason for the struggles in life.
Ah Ming grew old, disillusioned and lonely. Increasingly he yearned to return to his homeland. When his sons visited, he spoke distantly of times gone by, his friend Koo Eee and his Mary. It had been wrong for them to marry. Life had been so hard on the ones he loved. He looked longingly into the distant sky as he sat by the hut door, the large smooth white spirit stone caressed by his worn hand. His sons knew they must pay his passage back to China. Home to were his spirit could rest.
The cruising brown trout ignored every fly we put over them, and it was only our cunning that fooled a couple in the fast water. Pete Mason and I had spent a magical day fishing nearly all of the superb waters on the Nokomai stretch of the Mataura river.
Things weren't at all bad really. We'd set up camp on the flat just below the old miner's hut, and the tin of beans was heating in the fire while we had our bottle of Speights. I felt we had been watched for some time before the two old miners emerged from their hut to talk to us. They studied us closely. Like relics from an earlier age, they appeared gaunt, angular, rugged and unshaven!
It turned out they had a bit of trouble with their old Fordson van. It hadn't gone for three weeks and they really needed to use it as their gin supply was almost out. They rather hoped a couple of youngsters like us could fix it for them! That was, as long as we weren't deerstalkers. They didn't mind fishermen, but those "bloody deerstalkers" were another story. Apparently the last lot had pinched their mattresses!
A quick clean of the points and a good crank had old friends happily on their way back out of the valley to the Parawa pub. They arrived back even more jovial several hours later. Pete and I were just having a quiet smoke by the last embers of our birch fire when their Fordson and laughter penetrated the night with increasing intensity. Our laughter joined their's in the clear awe-inspiring magnitude of the surrounding valley, the hills dark and defined against the night sky.
Willingly we joined them in the consumption of their newly acquired De Kuypers gin. They plied us with mining stories, gold field songs, miners' dreams and fantasies. We were in wonder of these men of the past, and I felt an unexpected bond. As we bid good-night much later, hazy from the drink and the hut warmth, they hushed the night and stirred my inner spirit. They knew who I was, they said, as they turned back into the candle light of their hut. That's right. Old Dave and Jack knew from when they had first sighted me. They knew I was young Mee Chang's boy.
It seemed like more than a day before we had the chance to speak with our friends again. They had already left for their mine when we lifted our heavy heads to seek the elusive trout once more. The magic of the river, the smells and sounds of the valley and the clear heat of the sun lifted us to greater heights once more and we revelled in the thrill of fishing and the outdoors. We bagged a beautiful big brown to share with the miners on our return, sitting by the fire and again being enthralled with their tales.
They had been kids together with my father, over on the Coast, being brought up on the simple things of life, the hard work and the heartbreak. They'd seen together the dreams of their parents crushed by time, labour and ill health. Dave and Jack had not often ventured into the Chinese areas, but they had become friends with young Mee Chang.
He was different from others of his kind with his mother being a European from the old country. Dave's father had always said that she'd gone mad from "living with the Yellow Peril" but his mother said she knew that wasn't the case. They knew she had been sent away though, and that had meant that there were only Chinese left in the Canton gully then. As far as Jack could remember, they had all gone by the time his own family had moved on to the new gold fields. He had never seen Mee Chang again. With my black bushy hair and short stocky build they said I was just like him. I even walked the same.
The stars were well settled in the black night sky and the De Kuypers was getting down. Interesting and intriguing memories came forth easily and stories unfolded around us. They had gone back to the old Kaniere gullies when they were young men of twenty-five or so. There was no-one there then and the bush had reclaimed much of the cleared land. They had searched for the old mines, finding an old broken cradle and a windlass. They had to be careful here were more shafts sunk in those hills then had ever been known by their people. Some of them were quite full of water, and you could hear the splash of a dropped stone deep down in the darkness. Not many were dry.
They had found one where the side had partly caved away, weakened by a horizontal tunnel which had washed away in time. It was there they had found the skeleton, the Deutz lantern with the bones. The Police guessed he was a Chinese from the pieces of clothing and boots. No-one really knew who he was or even thought it mattered. Jack heard that they had buried him, without ceremony, in a shallow pauper's grave at Hokitika.
My father had never spoken freely of his childhood days. He had, however, spoken of one clear impressionable time which held great sadness within him. He recalled the rain, and the tragedy of a lost family friend. He could still see his father's wet, tired stooped form warming by the fire and remembered the feeling of powerlessness he felt as one too young to help or offer comfort. His memories of that time merged inseparably with the agony of seeing his mother losing her senses and being suddenly gone from his young life. There seemed to be a tearing of souls and spirits of so many people around him. An unsettling which only eased a little with time.
I knew whose lonely remains were in that pauper's grave in Hokitika, and I knew I must go there. I spoke to no-one of my journey, and I went alone. Peter was back at work and the two old miners had left their hut for the greater comforts of civilisation. I found that pauper's grave and silently spoke my farewells to my ancestor's dear and loyal friend. I willed his spirit to fly free back to his beloved country, to join those of his people and special companion, my grandfather, Ah Ming. I stood there, a light rain falling. I could sense the release, but there was too a binding to something close by. My eyes were drawn back to the page copied for me by the local sexton, and I felt a wrenching deep within my heart. There, just one narrow space between them, lay Koo Eee and another unmarked grave. The records gave the name I knew.
I have no doubts that they share in death that understanding and compassion which they shared before. Nothing could ever completely sever that bond. I know their spirits now have found their freedom, Koo Eee and my Cornish grandmother, Mary. I wonder still, at that fate which brought them to rest, together, unknown and alone so far from their native homes.