In the Shadow of the Cypress (29 page)

L
ONG BEFORE HE’D FINISHED HIS
paper on Zhou Man’s artifacts, Luke went back to the Hopkins storeroom to make sure that Dr. Gilbert’s small trunk was where he had hidden it. He was very pleased to discover that the lab’s housecleaning chores hadn’t progressed any further than they had some months before. The trunk was still there behind the file boxes where he had hidden it. At the first safe opportunity, Luke returned Dr. Gilbert’s papers to the bottom of the trunk. Then he moved the trunk to a place where it easily could be found by anybody looking for it. Luke had no intention of having his work tainted with the charge that he had purloined university property to accomplish his ends. On the other hand, there were no rules against research secrecy. That kind of thing was commonplace in the academic world. If the Stanford dons didn’t know what was in their own possession all along, it was not his problem. As a credentialed postgraduate student in good standing, Luke had every right to use university files for his own research. He and Robert knew only too well that before publication would be allowed, the first question asked by their faculty advisers would be where and how they came by their source material. Once that was answered, the university would rush to secure Dr. Gilbert’s papers for its own library, which was exactly what Luke and Robert wanted. Once the papers had been properly examined, and their authenticity verified by the university archivists, Luke’s work would be defended by competent authority. And that is precisely what happened.

———

W
HEN
L
UKE AND
R
OBERT AT
last published their work, it caused an international tremor that would ripple through academic circles for years. And, of course, they got more than their fifteen minutes of fame. They were hounded for interviews by every conceivable news organization and invited to lecture about their discoveries everywhere. The Chinese press, both mainland and otherwise, camped out at their doors, and they were even invited to go to China to deliver lectures to university scholars, which they did, if only to avoid the domestic breed of hyenas.

Then, as might be expected under the circumstances, all kinds of people came out of the woodwork with claims of knowing where the treasures were hidden. But they were proved wrong in every instance. The whereabouts of Zhou Man’s stone testament and his beautiful jade seal were never discovered, but Dr. Gilbert’s papers became world famous. Luke hoped that somehow this turn of events would have pleased the old scholar.

L
UKE WENT ON TO CREATE
another sensation with his shark-repelling surfboards, and he profited far beyond his expectations. But his greatest reward came in knowing that perhaps he’d saved the lives of many of his fellow surfing enthusiasts around the world.

Robert Wu garnered two more doctorates before he became totally bored with academic achievements. He at last bowed to his father’s desire to have him join the firm. He went on to be voted his father’s successor, and thus found he’d become immensely wealthy and powerful, which bored him even more. But in the end, Robert’s father didn’t get everything his own way. To everyone’s surprise, and especially Luke’s, Mr. Lawrence
H. Wu’s only son fell for, courted, and eventually married the lovely Françoise Nuygen, and they soon produced twin boys. This turn of events made his father relatively happy, though he had really wanted his only son to marry a nice Chinese girl.

And every May 10, which they counted as the anniversary of their first meeting, Luke and Robert met for dinner at the Great Kahn. They ate handsomely, drank expensive brandy, and reminisced about their adventures and accomplishments. They always ended the evening with a toast to that illustrious explorer Admiral Zhou Man, the venerable patron of their greatest success.

Luke never married Rosie. She eventually dumped him for a successful orthopedic surgeon she had met at a medical conference. Luke was not particularly disturbed by her decision, for he intrinsically knew that their differing interests and ambitions would eventually lead to an emotional breach of some kind. Instead, Luke fell for, and married, a beautiful blond champion surfer from Santa Cruz named Gail Lightfoot. They had met over the Internet when she had written to ask about the validity of rumors she had heard concerning his shark-repelling surfboard. She then traveled to Monterey to meet the inventor personally. Once convinced that Luke’s credentials and scientific principles were sound, she had courageously offered to test his electronically rigged surfboard in the shark-infested waters off South Africa, where she was soon scheduled to participate in an international competition.

Luke was immediately attracted to this courageous and willful beauty with eyes the color of light green jade, and so naturally he agreed to rig her competition board with his device. With Eddie’s help they worked together on the setup so she would completely understand every detail of the apparatus, and
the methods necessary to facilitate repairs if that should prove necessary.

A well-tanned Miss Lightfoot returned three weeks later with a second-place silver medal, and potential orders for sixty-five shark-rigged boards. A month later, while the couple surfed the poststorm waves off Lover’s Point, Luke plucked up the courage to propose marriage. Gail said she was truly flattered, but coyly strung him out for two months just to see how he would react. When she eventually discovered that Luke was just as tenacious and patient as she was, Gail agreed to a formal engagement. Luke marked the blissful occasion by presenting her with a platinum ring set with sea green diamonds to match her eyes. They were married in Pacific Grove three months later.

Luke often said that marrying Gail was the most propitious and enlightened thing he had ever done. And as passion’s destiny would have it, they ultimately produced two lovely, towheaded girls name Olivia and Sophie.

Luke eventually became a full professor at Stanford, a position he could easily afford because Gail took over the business and eventually made them both very wealthy. After several shark attacks on surfers who had fallen off their boards, Luke finally decided that the Australian diver/inventor who had first designed the shark-repellent device was correct in attaching the current generator to the surfer and not the board. However, this didn’t faze Luke one bit. He just moved one step sideways and conceived of a method of attaching an enhanced version of his watertight devices to the undersides of inflatable life rafts. He even adapted a model to be easily retrofitted to the existing survival rafts used by military pilots and commercial airlines. After that, the money just seemed to roll in all by itself. Luke
and Gail even received several prestigious commendations from the United States Navy and the Marine Corps. Not to mention a whole wall of impressive plaques from the airline pilots associations of twelve countries, and the naval and air services of six more. They also received testimonials from whole fishing fleets, and enough smoked salmon, smoked whitefish, and frozen crabmeat to open a Broadway deli.

Robert and Luke always acknowledged that they had been blessed by a heretofore unknown historical event of great consequence, one that would ultimately force a revision in all the history textbooks, but they were not the only ones who found blessings entwined in the mystery of Zhou Man’s treasures.

BENEDICTIONS

“Only fools and the faithless rail at Heaven.”

—
CHINESE PROVERB

E
VERY
F
EBRUARY 6, ON THE
eve of the lunar New Year, a small group of Chinese elders secretly gather in Monterey. They are all direct descendants of men who had met upon the same mission and in the same place for a hundred and two years. In the dead of night, at precisely eleven o’clock, they secretly make their way to a young cypress tree overlooking the bay. The tree itself is but a little older than the quiet ceremony they then perform. Incense sticks are lit and placed in an ancient copper urn filled with sand from China Point. A libation of gold-infused rice wine is gently poured at the base of the tree, and small strips of gold-edged, red rice paper, upon which many prayers of benediction have been inscribed, are burned in another ancient bronze bowl. The smoke carries these prayers to Heaven. The ashes are then reverentially sprinkled around the tree with the ceremonial clapping of hands, three times.

At the conclusion of this simple ceremony a special prayer is said for the illustrious spirit of their benefactor, Dr. Lao-Hong, whose intrinsic sense of integrity and justice, undeterred even in the face of conflicting clan loyalty, had been instrumental in making this auspicious and honored observance possible. The elders then quietly depart in the firm knowledge that they have kept faith with the spirit of their ancestors, and honored the long-departed hero of their race, Admiral Zhou Man. In this way they confidently appreciate that his blessings have been
secured for another year of hopeful prosperity. These faithful gentlemen, or their assigned heirs, will gather at this very spot, on the same date and time, for as long as the memory of the esteemed admiral and his intrepid sailors lives in the hearts of their wide-ranging countrymen. And as far as these venerable elders are concerned, that will be for as long as subsequent generations and reverential commemoration allow, or as long as Admiral Zhou Man’s treasure rests undisturbed beneath the bent and weathered cypress overlooking his Bay of Whales.

“To souls seeking wisdom devotion is prologue.”

—
CHINESE PROVERB

EPILOGUE

I
T WAS MY FATHER, A
fine historical scholar in his own right, who long ago first suggested to me that the Chinese had visited and explored the west coasts of the Americas long before Columbus discovered which side of the planet he was on. I well remember that my father was the only person I had ever known to point out that the Aztec deity Quetzalcoatl (god of knowledge, creation, priesthood, and the winds) was depicted, in the remarkably un-Aztec stone carvings at the Ciudadela complex in Teotihuacán, as a feathered serpent, a creature totally unknown in the Western Hemisphere, but well-known in China as a drag-on. If viewed head-on, the Aztec depictions of Quetzalcoatl, with his feathered collar, resembled almost exactly the polished bronze plaques carried on the flat bows of the largest capital ships in Admiral Zheng He’s great treasure fleet. Subsequently, I became an enthusiastic student of maritime history in general, and Chinese maritime engineering and history in particular. When I later learned that Chinese anchor stones, quarried in China, had been discovered in Monterey Bay, I came to realize
that my father must have been instinctually correct. From that moment of childhood enlightenment, nothing has absorbed my interest more than the study of maritime contacts between ancient cultures. I now also believe, after long study, that the same might also be true for maritime connections between Africa and South America’s Olmec civilization via the Yucatán peninsula of Mexico. It is only a personal opinion, to be sure, but anyone viewing the great stone helmeted Olmec heads found in that part of Mexico must admit that the depictions of their facial features appear far more African than they do the indigenous native population of that period. But that’s another book altogether.